


Come Down, Sweet Reverence

by Tinwoman



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gallant Cigarette Lighting, Masturbation, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:36:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinwoman/pseuds/Tinwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“C’mon, Glory, it’s the perfect cover! I know Piper’s not Miss Popularity, but she’s a known quantity in Diamond City. No one better to hunker down with while you’re doing recon.”</p><p>“God I hate this spy crap. Fine, so how do we play this, Deacon? Me and Newsgirl don’t exactly look like we run in the same circles.”</p><p>“Well, I figure you two could be, you know, old friends. <em>Good</em> friends, from way back. Gal pals.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Lord save me from this silly trope that presses every button I have, despite stretching the limits of credibility to the absolute breaking point. 
> 
> 2\. Someone on tumblr (and it's killing me b/c I can't remember who??) mentioned how needless it was to shackle your Railroad SS to just the 5 or 6 names presented by the game, as there's no reason to not make up your own. Which is so simple and brilliant it blew my mind, honestly, hence "Foxtrot." 
> 
> 3\. I'm on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tinwomanrunaway)! Swing by to hang out, say hi, or watch me shout into the endless, digital void.

There’s a certain rhythm to HQ these days. Not calm, not with the Switchboard down and Tommy Whispers gone and Tinker Tom spinning further away from reality every damn day, but predictable in how they run ops. There’s just not _enough_ of them to get creative anymore, so everyone’s been living in the house of their best accomplishment until they can get back on their feet.

Glory doesn’t mind predictable. It usually means going into the field hard and hot and armed to the teeth, with her minigun Sikanda’s comforting weight in her hands and bullets at her fingertips and the song of death on her lips. It’s draining and grueling and leaves her aching down to her perfect, synthetic bones, but it’s _dependable,_ and she likes that part of it.

Also dependable? Deacon’s penchant for blowing everything up in her face with no warning.

_This is it. The pinnacle, crown fucking jewel of Deacon’s Stupid Ideas. We can put everything else to rest now and close up shop, because nothing will ever beat this one._ Glory grits her teeth and forces herself to stay quiet and listen to what is quite possibly the dumbest mission brief she’s heard in a long, long time.

“So you’re saying we could actually get Glory _into_ Diamond City, with a long-term cover?” Desdemona says, wary but intrigued, hands braced on the crumbling brick platform they used for mission spreads. Deacon is sitting in a chair next to her, feet propped up on the table, still wearing his pompadour wig and twirling a pen in one hand. “We could have an agent stationed there, even if infrequently, and to keep an eye on those rumors about the Mayor? That’s...very interesting.”

“Wait, wait, don’t I get a say in this?” Glory interrupts, unable to keep silent anymore. “I’m not built for undercover ops, Des, you know that.” Crossing her arms, Glory rolls her shoulders slightly and fights to keep her voice even, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone else around them.

“I know, Glory,” Des says, a strained crack in her voice. “But we’re stretched thin right now. There aren’t enough of us to go around anymore.” Up close Desdemona looks exhausted, the flickering lamplight drawing deep shadows in the hollow of her cheeks and under her eyes. It’s been weeks since Glory’s been back to HQ, and she feels her resolve weakening in the face of Desdemona’s obvious desperation. _Maybe...No. This is such a bad idea._

“What rumors are we even talking about here?” Glory asks, pacing slightly. She’d never been to Diamond City, had given the place as wide a berth as she could given the town’s reputation. _Self-righteous bigots._ Still, if there Institute-related rumblings about the Mayor of a major settlement, she should know about it.

“What, you haven’t heard?” Deacon says, idly scratching the back of his neck. “People are saying all kinds of things, but the general idea is that he’s a synth, that he orchestrates kidnappings throughout the city and surrounding area, and that he’s feeding information to the Institute.” He shifts slightly in his chair, pressing his feet harder into the rough stone.

“Right, well,” Desdemona says, straightening up and rotating her right wrist absentmindedly as she worked through the issue out loud. “I doubt all of those things are true, but it’s worth having a contact inside the city, and even better to have an agent there in case things get worse. That’ll be a prime Institute target if...if things go badly again. We need to have as much warning as possible.”

“Why can’t Deacon go? He’s the face-changing superspy, right? I’m just here for,” Glory pauses, reaching for a phrase Carrington had used months ago as an insult. “...ballistic support.” Next to her Deacon snorts appreciatively, and Glory closes her eyes for a brief second and feels the dull throb of a headache starting in her left temple. _What’s the point of programming us with headaches? I mean really. The fucking nerve._

“You know I would if I could, pal,” Deacon says, shrugging cheerfully. “But Foxtrot and I have our own ops to run. Plus, he’s too well-known in the city — I had to create a whole new cover for myself when we’re there. This would need another person, someone fresh and unconnected, at least at first.”

Glory scowls, feeling boxed in and ganged up on. “Des, Diamond City is the most anti-synth settlement in the Commonwealth.” She’s ignoring Deacon. She’s not even going to _acknowledge_ Deacon. “I can handle myself, but I don’t really want to plant myself in the middle of Synth Lynching City…”

Desdemona’s expression softens almost imperceptibly. “It won’t be a combat mission, Glory. You’ll just be there for a few days every few month or so, brief but somewhat regular, for recon and to act as a contact point for any synths trying to get out of the city.”

Averting her gaze, Glory tightens her grip on her arms. “I wish it was a combat mission,” she grumbles under her breath, and Deacon’s answering laugh is almost sympathetic. 

“So, you in?” Deacon asks, grinning up at her, still twirling that damn pen. 

“Do I have a choice?” she shoots back, reaching over and snatching the offending object out of his hand, knocking his feet off the table for good measure.

“Of course you do,” Desdemona says, her mouth thinning and eyes hardening. Glory winces a little. _Okay, so that was over the line._

She knows Desdemona’s ideas about conscripting people and forcing them to do anything against their will is ironclad. _Especially me._ When G7-81 first convinced Desdemona not to wipe her, to let her stay and fight for her freedom and her people, she had looked at her with serious, laser-like intensity, telling her ‘You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to. Never again. Do you understand me?’ And to G7-81 it was like a benediction, like absolution, like fucking _rebirth_ into the avenging angel she named herself after. So yeah, she feels a little shitty for jabbing at that bruise. 

“Fine, fine, mission accepted,” Glory says, raising her hands in surrender and shooting Des a slightly apologetic glance. “So how the hell do I manage this? I’m assuming I can’t just walk in and try to buddy up to the locals, right?”

Deacon stands up, stretching his arms over his head. “Well my friend, that’s the true genius of this little plan. Foxtrot’s on his now with both an idea and a person, to help you get around in the city. Does the name Piper Wright ring any bells?”

Glory frowns and reaches up to rub her temple with the tips of her fingers. “The reporter? I know _of_ her, I guess, from Foxtrot.”

Deacon waggles his eyebrows at her, that smirk still on his face, and Desdemona is looking at her expectantly.

“No way,” Glory says, shaking her head. “You can’t be serious! Isn’t she the one McDonough hates? How is that going to help?”

“No, that’s what makes it so good — she’s the perfect cover!” Deacon says earnestly. “She’s not exactly Miss Popularity, but she’s a known quantity in Diamond City. People think she’s a troublemaker, sure, but she’s a staple of the community.”

“Also, it would give you a good excuse to run into McDonough. Everyone knows the two of them are at each other’s throats all the time,” Desdemona adds thoughtfully, eyes slightly unfocused as she runs the mission specs in her head.

“Exactly. And Piper’s like one of those tiny, pre-war dogs — she can’t let go of a bone she has her teeth in, so you’ll have ample opportunities to scope him out.” Deacon sounds irritatingly triumphant. 

A sigh, because as stubborn as Glory can be she knows when she’s been outmaneuvered. “Ugh, fine. Fine. But how do we play it? I mean, Newsgirl and I don’t exactly look like we run in the same circles.”

Deacon coughs slightly, looking suspiciously like he’s trying to shake off a laugh. “Well, I figure you two could be, you know, old friends. _Good_ friends, from way back. Gal pals.”

They’re interrupted by the thump of a door opening and closing, and then Foxtrot is coming toward them. He’s on the shorter side, stocky and powerful with dark skin and a close cropped beard. His face is just shy of handsome, but with a bright, guileless smile that lights up his features. Privately, Glory thinks Deacon is more than a little infatuated with him, though with him it’s impossible to really tell.

Trailing behind him is a dark-haired woman in a bright, please-shoot-me-now red trenchcoat, newsboy cap sitting slightly askew as she looks around the room with avid interest. She looks...well, _pretty._ Pretty and decorative and probably useless in anything more than a shouting match, Glory thinks, not bothering to keep the skepticism off her face. 

“Hey, did you guys get a chance to talk about everything?” Foxtrot asks, smiling. “This is Piper, by the way. She volunteered to help us out.”

“Hi,” Piper says, giving a small, slightly twitchy wave with her gloved hand. “So, this is the Railroad, huh? Nice, uh, _crypt,_ you’ve got here.”

“You should see it when we do our annual Christmas-slash-Haunted House,” Deacon says, hopping up to sit on the raised brick table. “The smell of death and decay really give it a ring of authenticity, you know?”

“I bet,” Piper says, shoving her hands in her pockets with a small, slightly nervous smile. 

“So,” Foxtrot says smoothly, “I floated this idea to Piper already, and she’s in to be Glory’s cover, and to give her a solid reason to be in Diamond City. Are we good with everything on this end?” He’s still smiling, but his eyes flicker over to Glory.

“I need to know two things before we go any further,” Glory says bluntly to Piper, holding the other woman’s gaze. “Number one, can you handle yourself in a fight? I’m sure Foxtrot gave you the same speech Deacon gave me about this being a ‘no guns allowed’ type of thing, but you never know what’ll go down in the field. If something happens I need to know what you’re capable of.”

Piper raises an eyebrow, seemingly unphased by Glory’s slightly aggressive response, and Glory has to give her points for that. “Fair enough, I guess. I’ve got a pistol and I know how to use it, and I spent the last six months tromping around after Blue,” she says, jabbing a thumb toward Foxtrot. “He can attest to my not-dying ability, if you want the specifics.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about Piper,” Foxtrot says, laughing a little. “Just last month we hit the Marowski warehouses and cleaned out about fifteen of his goons. I set ‘em up, she knocked ‘em down.”

Piper grimaces slightly at that and looks away, lips twisting in distaste, and Glory makes a mental note to find out the story behind that. _Squeamish about getting involved with a drug kingpin, maybe?_

“Okay, well that’s good to know,” Glory allows. “Question number two, and more importantly: Why are you doing this? Why help us? You don’t have any skin in the game, so why risk your life?”

A spare shake of her head, and Piper straightens her back and puts her hands on her hips, chin tilted out. “Look, this whole thing was Blue’s idea originally, but I care about the Commonwealth, okay? And something bad is happening in Diamond City, something really bad. McDonough and the Institute are dangerous, and they’re _hurting _people.”__

“Hurting synths, you mean,” Glory says, and the silence that comes after rings like a bell. Glory leans forward slightly, crossing her arms again to emphasize her height and bulk, wanting to see if it would make Piper back down. Deacon still looks deceptively relaxed, Desdemona is still and watching carefully, but Foxtrot is visibly tense, his eyes darting between Piper and Glory as if bracing for a fight, ready to jump in and separate them.

Foxtrot really doesn’t know her at all, if he thinks that’s where this is going. Glory just needs to hear it direct from Piper, that’s all, and to see how she reacts to a little pressure. Deacon glances at her with a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, and she knows he understands. The one thing her and Deacon have in common is an innate trust of their instincts, and right now she’s still not sure about Piper, about the “do-gooder, spunky reporter” thing, or why someone like her would risk her life for synths, copies, _machines._

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Piper says tightly, jaw clenched and looking defiant. “The Institute is the enemy, not synths. I am perfectly capable of understanding the difference, and of understanding that you...that your people were hurt the most by them.” She stutters a little at the end, the sharp edge of her voice blunting slightly as she fumbles for the right words.

_Well damn._

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’m in.” Glory says with a grin, relaxing her posture as Piper lets out a tiny puff of breath. The tension in the room eases marginally, and Foxtrot runs a hand over the top of his head, rubbing hard.

“Hold on, not so fast,” Piper says, putting a hand up. “I’ve got a question of my own, if we’re playing interrogator.” Deacon slides off the dais and shifts slightly to stand behind Glory, backing her up almost instinctively in case she needs him to tap in for an answer. It’s nice, but not necessary. Glory’s sure Piper’s not going for classified information, just wants to feel her out, maybe play a little hardass herself so she knows they’re equals. Glory can respect that.

Glory shrugs, still smiling, and is gratified to see Piper grin back, almost reluctantly. “Okay, tiger. Fire away,” Glory says, bracing her hip against the wall and cocking her head slightly. _Is she blushing?_

“Do you know what Diamond City residents usually sound like?” Piper says, bravado cracking a little as she chews on her lower lip. “I get that you’re, you know, a badass or whatever, but can you handle hearing the anti-synth talk there without exploding into violence? I just...can you be, you know. Cool? About something very not-cool?” She finishes, her dark eyes unwavering on Glory, hands twitching slightly by her sides.

A small chuckle from Deacon, but Piper doesn’t look away. It’s a real question, Glory knows, and she wants to give a real answer. _We’re gonna have to trust each other if this is ever gonna work._

“Yeah. I can handle it. It won’t be fun, but it’s not worse than anything else I’ve heard around the Commonwealth,” she says, not bothering to mask it behind flippancy, wanting Piper to see the truth of it. “I won’t get us — get _you_ — into trouble.” Catches Foxtrot and Deacon exchanging a look out of the corner of her eye, but keeps her attention on Piper.

Piper laughs at that, clear and sweet and a little startling in its sheer volume. “Well, I’m not asking for miracles,” she says easily, pulling her cap off and running a hand through her hair, twisting her fingers into it and tugging slightly. “Trouble’s, well, not my _middle_ name, but a fond nickname, at least. I can’t expect you to save me from that.” Her eyes crinkle a little at the corners as she smiles, a hint of self-deprecation in her voice.

“Hey, if you want miracles, you came to the right person,” Glory says before she stop herself, letting that arrogant, Railroad Heavy confidence creep back into her tone, and Piper rolls her eyes, biting her lip against another smile.

“Great!” Foxtrot says happily, spreading his arms as if to embrace them both, but then thinking better of it. “So, let’s go over the specs, but I think we can kick this off in a few weeks.” He draws the five of them closer to the table, pulling out some notes from his pack and spreading them over the brick surface.

_A few weeks. God, we really must be desperate._ Glory glances over at Piper, the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose more prominent now that she’s closer to the lamplight, bending over Foxtrot’s notes with a slight frown. When Glory looks up, Deacon’s watching her with a raised eyebrow, that stupid smirk still dancing across his lips.

Glory swipes a crumpled Fancy Lad Snack Cake pack from a nearby shelf and chucks it at him, hitting him square in the chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are still my only interests at the moment, tbh

_C’mon, c’mon. Where are you?_ Piper squints into the bright afternoon sun and pats her coat, looking for the sunglasses that she could’ve sworn she brought. Diamond City looms above her like a great, hulking monolith, and despite her mixed feelings about the city it’s never looked more like a fortress to her than right now. _Jeez, Glory’s gonna take one look at this place and turn right around,_ Piper thinks sourly, giving up on the sunglasses and compromising with a cigarette.

She’d gotten a message from Blue a few days ago alerting her about Glory’s arrival, and giving her the fine details of the backstory. Piper repeats it all in her head now, feeling a little jittery – she was sure she could talk her way out any slips, but this was still way out of her element.

_Right. Glory’s an old friend from Waltham, we were friends when we were kids. She’s a freelance mercenary who worked mostly around the Capitol, and is coming here for to scope out a new job. And hey, her old pal Piper lives in Diamond City, so why not come down for a visit? Yeah. Easy-peasy._

It sounded good to her. Freelance mercenaries were a dime a dozen around the Commonwealth, and Glory certainly looked the part. Paired with the widespread knowledge that mercs aren’t exactly known for being honest or forthcoming about their pasts, and Piper’s sure she can chalk up any minor inconsistencies to Glory being either a show-off or a closed book, depending on how she had to spin it.

“Hey, what’re you hanging around out here for, Piper?” calls out Sully, the on-duty Diamond City gate guard from behind his little grate. “If you’re lying in wait for the Mayor, you’re gonna be here awhile – he’s out on some business today.”

“Oh please,” Piper says, not bothering to turn around. “Like I spend my day just waiting on McDonough’s schedule. I’m here to meet a friend, thank you very much.”

Sully laughs. “ _You’ve_ got a friend? Someone you haven’t irritated into steering clear of you?” It’s not entirely mocking, but not entirely friendly either.

“Whoa, scoop of the century, there – Piper’s got someone who actively chooses to spend time with her,” Piper shoots back, whirling around with her hands on her hips. “You sure you don’t wanna give up this security business to be a reporter, Sully? You’ve got an eye for the stories that would really _sell._ ” Her voice is a whipcrack, no kind-of friendly there, and he recoils at her vehemence. 

“Jeez,” Sully mutters. “Take it easy.”

Piper winces slightly. _Overkill there, Wright._ But just as she’s casting about for an apology-that-isn’t-really-an-apology, she sees Glory round the corner. _Okay. Showtime._

“Glory!” she calls out, stubbing her cigarette out on the wall and waving a little wildly. They’d decided to leave Glory’s name alone. It was obviously a pseudonym, and Deacon assured them that answering to a new name took practice. Better to leave it be, make this whole thing as easy as possible. 

Glory grins and waves back, sunlight glinting off her bleached hair and perfect teeth, and Piper’s heart skips half a beat. Glory certainly cuts quite a figure, she’d give her that at least. 

Piper jogs up to meet her, hoping for even a tiny moment alone before they head in. They hadn’t really talked too much about this, when they’d be ‘on’ for real, and now she’s worried she drew too much attention to herself with Sully.

Taking a chance as she gets closer, she throws her arms around Glory, drawing her into a hug. There’s a moment when Glory stiffens against her, surprised, but then the other woman’s arms come up around her. Piper yelps as Glory actually lifts her off the ground a little, the small gust of Glory’s laugh whispering against her neck.

“So,” Glory says, releasing her and drawing back, still grinning. “You’re a hugger, huh? Foxtrot must’ve left out that little detail in the dossier.”

“No! I mean, kinda, yeah,” Piper says breathlessly. “I just – heads up, is all. The guard at the gate is sorta pissed at me right now, and I wanted to…”

“Make sure I did my homework?” Glory asks, raising an eyebrow. Hoisting her pack higher on her shoulder, she resumes her long strides into the city. “Or make sure I have my Good Girl face on if the fine citizens of Diamond City start spouting some bullshit?”

“Um, both?” Piper says, biting her lip and looking pleadingly at Glory, trotting a little to keep pace with her. “I’m sorry, I –“

“Don’t worry about it,” Glory says, her expression smoothing back out, but Piper’s sure she can see tension in the set of her shoulders, the way her hand keeps twitching, looking for a gun-shaped pacifier. “I’m on my best behavior here.”

“Okay. Yeah. I mean, we’ll be fine, then. Nothing to worry about.”

"You don’t know that,” Glory says tightly, grin still firmly in place for the benefit of anyone watching. 

“Hey,” Piper says, reaching out and grabbing Glory’s shoulder, spinning her slightly to face her. “Look, I know this is gonna sound silly because you’re...you know, strong and could kick my ass into next week without even trying, but...I’ll protect you, okay? There’s no one here I can’t talk, threaten, or bribe my way past. You’re safe as long as you stick with me.” Her voice is low and intent. They’re really too close to Sully to be talking like this, but Glory _needs_ to trust her.

Glory blinks, and something flits across her face too fast for Piper to get a bead on. Disbelief? Surprise, maybe? But Piper’s sure her smile looks less forced now. With a half shrug, Glory nods. 

“No worries, killer. I’m still in. Lead the way.”

Piper lets out a small sigh and smiles back, then raises her voice a little and continues. “So yeah, here it is. Biggest settlement in the Commonwealth, safe as houses as long as you don’t mind corrupt politicians and power-hungry officials. Security’s not too bad as long as you stay on their good side – oh hey Sully! Didn’t see ya there,” she says brightly, her best winning smile in place. Sully rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth are twitching upward.

“So, you’re Piper’s friend, huh?” Sully says, hefting his spiked slugger over his shoulder and holding out his other hand. “You sure you wanna be associated with our town’s Number One Troublemaker?”

Glory takes his hand and grins at him. “Name’s Glory. And Piper, a troublemaker? Sounds like she hasn’t changed a bit from when we were kids. But don’t worry – I like trouble.” Glory winks at him, looking every inch the charming mercenary. Sully’s eyebrows shoot up, and he suddenly gets a speculative look in his eyes, like something just clicked into place for him. He shoots Piper a knowing glance, and then she gets it, too.

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

“Oh! Ohhhh. Well then, sounds like you two are a perfect fit,” he says, smirking hugely at Piper. Piper grits her teeth and glares at him.

“Okay, well, let’s get moving,” Piper says loudly, grabbing Glory and pulling her along, not wanting to have this humiliating conversation in front of Sully.

Glory laughs and shrugs, calling back to Sully, “Sorry! When Piper says go, we’ve gotta go!”

 _Oh my god, she’s making it worse._ Piper’s cheeks heat up, and she practically drags Glory up the stairs, Sully’s laugh bouncing off the metal walls and floors behind them.

“Now who’s acting twitchy?” Glory whispers, her lips brushing the tiniest bit against Piper’s ear, and Piper swallows hard.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mutters. “It’s nothing. C’mon.” Piper ushers her through the doors, cursing her luck and praying that she could squash this before it got out of hand. 

**********

A few hours later, after stopping by Piper’s place and dropping Glory’s gear off, the two of them are walking through the city. It’s a warm evening, and the streets are crowded, people taking advantage of the pleasant weather. Piper can feel Glory tense and alert next to her. _Probably not big on crowds,_ Piper thinks sympathetically. _Ah well. Trial by fire, right?_

They’re definitely attracting attention – Arturo flags them down for a quick chat, visions of caps dancing in his head when he sees Glory’s well-muscled arms and obvious swagger. Vadim insists they stop by for a beer and traps them in a long, winding conversation, though Glory recites her constructed backstory perfectly. They stop by Nicky’s place, too, but Ellie reports that he’s out on a case.

“Should be back in a few days, though,” Ellie says, turned slightly away from them as she organizes a stack of papers in front of her. “Will you be around that long? Nick’s a good person to know, if you’re going to be spending any significant time in the city.”

“Might miss him, then, but I’ll catch him the next time,” Glory says easily, leaning one hip on Nick’s desk while Piper reaches across her and swiped a pen from the drawer below. “I’ll definitely be back.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Ellie says, her eyes lingering on the two of them, and Piper suddenly sees their position from the outside, her practically draped across Glory’s lap. _Ah, crap._ She draws back sharply, nearly colliding into a file cabinet and drawing an amused snort from Glory.

“C’mon, Glory, let’s swing by Travis’s before we eat,” Piper says quickly. “You can see where the magic happens.” This they’d discussed earlier – a visit to Travis, who Piper had pegged as potentially sympathetic to the Railroad. Plus, now that Blue cast whatever Blue-esque magic he used with people and helped the poor kid get over his stage fright, Travis’s listener base was bigger than ever. Tempting target.

“Bye, Glory. Nice to see some new blood around here, and to meet a…friend, of Piper’s.” Ellie says, her eyes pinging back and forth between the two of them, smiling so softly and sweetly that Piper feels another blush threaten to climb up her cheeks.

_How did I not think of this? How did I not realize that this obviously what everyone would think? God, Glory’s gonna kill me._

“Okay,” Glory says in a low voice when they’re outside again. “Are people acting weird around us, or am I just that paranoid? If this is a bad idea, I need to know now.” Another city guard walked by, Danny she thinks, and raises a hand in greeting automatically.

“No, it’s not that. It’s not you at all. It’s…me,” Piper says quietly, feeling Danny’s speculative, lingering look like a prickle on the back of her neck.

“What? What the fuck does _that_ mean?” Glory stops dead, her relaxed expression splintering, and Piper can see that she’s ready to bolt. 

“Nothing! Just…okay, c’mon. Sidetrip to the Wall, the Pride of DC,” Piper says, grabbing Glory’s arm – _fuck it_ – and leading her to the quietest back corner she can find.

“Piper, what the hell,” Glory hisses, tensing under Piper’s hand but not pulling away.

“It’s nothing, I swear,” Piper says, tilting them both toward the back wall and glancing over her shoulder. “People are – Jesus, I just – it’s so stupid, it doesn’t even matter, I -”

“You are making me very nervous right now, Pipes,” Glory says, deceptively calm. “And no one here will like me when I’m nervous. Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Piper finally blurts out, gaze on the gritty packed earth at her feet, feeling her face burn with embarrassment. “And everyone here’s such a nosy asshole, they think you…they think we…You know, ‘old friend’. Piper’s ‘friend’ from way back.” Piper makes air quotes with her fingers, still resolutely not looking at Glory, sounding bitter even by her impressive standards.

The shadows are mostly hiding them, and the heavy smell of brahmin sizzling on the grill drifts through the air. In the pause that follows, Piper hears the distinctive calls of the shopkeepers, distant this far away, and wonders if she could will herself to disappear.

“Oh. Is that all?” Glory says, and Piper chances a glance up at her and finds her smiling slightly.

“I…I mean, yeah. Look, Glory, I didn’t even _think_ about that when I, you know. Volunteered, as a cover for you. I swear, if I hadn’t been so _stupid_ I never would’ve –” Piper says, tripping a little over her words, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand and desperately wishing for another cigarette.

“Piper, it’s fine,” Glory interrupts, and still half-smiling. “Really. God, you had me worried there for a minute!” Glory punches her lightly on the arm, obviously trying to get Piper to relax. Piper takes a deep breath and wills herself to calm down.

“So…you’re okay with this?” Piper says, forcing herself to look at Glory fully, not trying to escape or slide away, to make sure she understood. 

Glory rolls her eyes. “Yeah, of course. It’s not that big of a deal, is it? I mean, it might actually be helpful – people seem happy about it mostly, and being your girlfriend will make it easier to get into the city. Won’t need an excuse if everyone thinks I’m here to get laid, will I?” Glory winks at her, and Piper grits her teeth against the sudden twist of heat in her belly.

_Christ, stop that._

“Unless…” and Glory’s expression shifts, concern sharpening her features. “Unless _you’re_ not okay with it?”

“No! No, no I thought you…I mean, if you’re good with it, I still want to. Help,” Piper finishes lamely, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat and not think too hard about her own motivations for this. _I just want to help, of course I do. I asked to be a part of this before I even met her._

“Good!” Glory says, her cover’s arrogant grin back on her face. “That’s settled, then. So, lead the way to my favorite radio star, babe.”

Piper rolls her eyes at Glory, refusing to acknowledge the catch of breath at the nickname, and Glory laughs back at her as they walk toward Travis’s converted trailer. There’s a slight tremble in Piper’s knees that she tries to shake off, feeling almost weak with relief that Glory wasn’t…that Glory was staying. 

Piper waits a minute at Travis’s door, making sure he isn’t talking on air, then knocks sharply.

“Hey, Piper,” Travis says, looking more relaxed than he usually did. _Man, Blue really built this kid up._ “You must be Glory, right?” He backs up, giving them space to walk in.

Glory raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s me,” she says.

Travis shrugs apologetically. “Rumors move fast here, and new people are always exciting. Hope that’s not too weird for you.” He sits down at his usual seat while Atom Bomb Baby whirrs in the background. Piper pulls out the other chair, and after a quick glance for permission Glory perches on the bed.

“Welcome to my humble abode, the tiny home of the only real radio station in Diamond City,” Travis says, his voice smooth and nearly unrecognizable to Piper.

“Man, it looks smaller than I thought it would,” Glory says, looking around and grinning, stretching her legs out slightly. “Still pretty neat, though.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly as glamorous as I make it sound,” Travis says, sprawling slightly in his chair, mirroring Glory’s posture. Piper takes it as a good sign and grins slightly at Glory – he likes her, he wants to impress her, or at least wants her to think well of him. _He’s looking better and better as a friend to the Railroad,_ Piper thinks, feeling hopeful.

“Still, you’ve got your own place – that’s not nothing,” Glory says, cracking her knuckles idly, and Piper starts fishing in her pockets for another cigarette, wanting badly to get out of here and back to her place. This day had been longer than even she anticipated, and she was a Worst Case Scenario kind of girl down to her marrow.

“Silver lining of parents being out of the picture when I was a kid,” Travis says, with the ease of someone who’s had to explain the story for most of his life. “Forced independence has its perks.”

“I hear that,” Glory says, and Travis raises his eyebrows.

“Wait, are you…?"

“Orphan. Yeah, from when I was a baby,” Glory says, and Piper's heart slams to a stop.

_Shit. No, no, no. Wrong backstory. Fuck._

Keeping her breathing steady as she can, she abandons the cigarette pack and straightens up slowly, trying to catch Glory’s eye. There was an earlier version of Glory’s backstory that involved being an orphan, but Deacon had thought it would be too suspicious, make her seem almost too interesting and tragic. Better to stick to a boring, reasonably happy childhood, he’d said, and insisted they went with something else.

But it’s too late, and Piper isn’t even sure Glory realizes her mistake yet.

“Really?” Travis sounds surprised, and Piper’s hands start to sweat. “Huh. That’s – Vadim came by earlier and told me your Dad raised you, that that’s how you and Piper met.”

Piper forces herself to keep her posture relaxed and calm, trying to telepathically beam help into Glory’s brain.

“Oh, uh… Yeah, well….” Glory trails off, looking like she just got punched in the gut, and Piper feels the moment stretching out into infinity, her mind flicking through ways to save this. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, like a gift, she has it, has the answer.

“C’mon Travis,” Piper says, trying to inject a note of casual disapproval in her voice, leaning forward and frowning slightly. “Family isn’t just blood. Who cares who Glory called Dad? All that matters is she had someone who looked out for her, cared about her.” A significant look at Glory, hoping against hope that she can pick up what Piper’s putting down.

“Oh,” Travis says, looking more confused than ever. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Glory says, still looking slightly shaken up, but like she was recovering. “My Dad, he wasn’t really my Dad. Not biologically. He’s just the one who kept an eye on me, stopped me from getting into too much trouble. I called him…Dad. I know, it’s kinda stupid.”

_Yes, yes! That’s it, that’s how you do it!_

“It’s not stupid,” Piper says fiercely, drawing more attention to herself, giddy tension making her snap a little harder than usual.

“No, it’s not,” Travis says, looking mortified and guilty, his voice pinched and anxious. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve…that was tactless. I’m sorry, Glory.”

Glory shrugs and smiles, and if it’s a little wild and off-kilter, Piper’s sure Travis doesn’t notice. “Hey, no worries, buddy. It’s ancient history. Piper’s just a little overprotective, that’s all.” Glory tilts her head at Piper, shooting a conspiratorial grin at Travis, and he grins back, looking relieved. 

“Yeah, Piper’s like that with…well, all of Diamond City, actually,” Travis says, settling back into his radio voice.

“’Piper’ is right here, you jerks,” Piper says grouchily, kicking at the leg of Travis’s chair and getting a small laugh out of him, feeling her heart rate start to slow it’s frantic pace. _I think we’re out of the woods._

“No, it’s good!” Travis says, holding his hands up in surrender. “To have someone looking out for you, I mean. For us. Bad things are out there.”

“Nice try, Travis,” Piper says, letting her voice warm up a bit. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re still sweet under that slick new persona – good to know who’s willing to step up to bat for the little guy out here.”

“I am, Piper,” Travis says seriously. “Always.”

“Aw, you two are gonna make me cry,” Glory teases, and Piper grins, knowing Glory was already calculating how quickly she could start feeding Travis pro-synth, radio-appropriate scripts. “Well, on that world-saving note, I desperately need dinner, a drink, and sleep, in that order.” Glory stands and stretches her arms over her head, making the small trailer seem even more cramped.

“Sure, sure. Thanks for stopping by,” Travis says, jumping up and opening the door for them. “Piper, see you around. Glory, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, big guy,” Glory says cheerfully, and Piper waves a goodbye as she hustles them both out of the door.

They walk in silence for a few paces, heading back to Piper’s place without needing to check with each other. There was no way either of them was up for another public performance, and they could scrounge together food from whatever Piper had on hand.

“Thanks,” Glory says quietly, not looking at Piper, and there’s a wealth of meaning in that one word. Piper bites her lip against a smile. 

“No problem,” Piper says just as softly, eyes on the city in front of her, and tries very hard to smother the bubble of happiness rising in her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Featuring: Action! Violence! Gallant Cigarette Lighting!

It’s been a few months since Glory’s initial mission to Diamond City, and as much as she hates to admit when she’s wrong, it’s been a pretty sweet gig so far. Other than her embarrassing slip the first time around, they haven’t had any trouble, just a steady stream of info she passes on to Desdemona every couple of weeks. Most of it’s been pretty good, too. Glory knows the city like the back of her hand now, made some useful contacts with Arturo and Travis, firmed up her relationship with Nick Valentine, and after one memorable, drunken night with the Security Guards (who now Piper swears are smitten with her) she’s got McDonough’s general schedule for the next few months. 

And a few other things Glory’s been tucking away in the back of her mind. That Piper’s a light sleeper, for example, and her favorite breakfast food is sweet rolls, even though Glory keeps telling horror stories about Tinker Tom’s legendary cavities. That coffee makes her jumpy but cigarettes calm her down, and for someone who spends all her time writing scathing articles she has a surprising soft spot for poetry.

Not that any of that is strictly necessary for Railroad intel, mind. Just something to have on hand. To make things run a little smoother between herself and her favorite tourist, keep things on a nice, even keel between them. The bottles of Cherry Nuka Cola clinking prettily in the bottom of her pack are just a...housewarming gift, for her fake best girl. 

_That’s a thing guests, do right? Come bearing gifts?_

After all, Glory hasn’t stayed in too many people’s homes before — having gone straight from the Institute to the Railroad, her idea of home has always been more of a commune: shared living area with more than a dozen people, bunks or mattresses for sleeping, and very little personal space.

But she’s halfway through her fourth “day trip” at Piper’s, as Deacon keeps calling them, currently sprawled out on the couch in the cozy little house while Piper and Nat talk through the cover one more time, and Glory’s feeling downright domestic.

Piper had tried her damnedest to schedule Glory’s visits for when Nat was staying with friends or away for some trip, only giving her sister an abbreviated, highly edited version of the story. Just that they’re helping Glory with something, to fib slightly that Glory lived with them at Waltham, and to change the subject whenever possible.

But now Nat’s face to face with Glory for the first time, and Piper is flapping around her like a mother bird, clearly worried that Nat will get tripped up. Glory’s not nearly as concerned — Nat seems smart and tough, just like her big sister, and they made sure not to give her any info that would her in trouble.

“You would’ve been too young to remember, Nat, so if anyone asks you can tell them that, okay?” Piper says seriously, while Glory starts pulling things out of her pack, fishing for the spec list from Tom. The last thing on this visit’s checklist is getting a bead on McDonough’s computer — Tom thinks he can get some cloning software on there, but needs to know exactly what make, model and year he’s working with.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Duh, Piper. You’ve already told me this like, a million times. I got it.”

Piper holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! It’s important though, Nat.”

“Hey Glory, can you teach me how to shoot that thing?” Nat asks, ignoring Piper and staring at the shotgun leaning up against the wall.

Glory starts a little, then grins and opens her mouth to reply, but Piper beats her to it.

“What?? No! Nat, you are way too young for that. Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” Piper says, looking almost comically shocked.

Nat frowns, her chin firming up, and for a moment the resemblance between the two is striking. “C’mon Piper, I’m not a baby. I can totally learn how to use a gun if I want.”

“Uh-uh. Nope, we are not having this conversation now,” Piper says flatly, grabbing Nat by the shoulders and marching her toward the door. “Go out and make normal-kid trouble, not gun-toting kid trouble. Or, better yet, hawk the paper for a few hours, okay?”

With a huge, theatrical sigh, Nat drags herself out the door, casting one final, longing look back at the shotgun before slamming the door shut.

“What the hell was that?” Piper says, just on this side of shrill, eyes skyward as if asking for divine intervention.

Laughing, Glory shakes her head. “Don’t look at me — kids aren’t exactly my area of expertise.” She lets the rest of the sentence hang in the air, sure Piper would pick it up. _Seeing as I was never actually a kid in the first place._

Piper glances at her and the corner of her mouth quirks up, acknowledging the quip, and then throws herself down on the couch next to Glory, all graceless long limbs and annoyed huffs.

“She’s showing off for you,” Piper accuses, pulling off her hat and scratching at her scalp, looking up at Glory through her lashes with a small smile. This close, Glory can see the eyes she thought were brown are just the tiniest bit hazel, flecks of green around the outer edge of her irises. 

“Well, I am pretty damn impressive, especially to a 10-year old,” Glory says, smirking and cracking her knuckles.

Piper snorts, but changes the subject. “So I’m thinking we could take a crack at McDonough’s office in the next hour or so, once the sun’s really down — the info you pulled from Frankie matches what I’ve been seeing the past few days, and I think that’ll be our best window.”

“Works for me,” Glory says easily. “This is just recon for now, so even just a peek will be enough for me to use.”

“Easy, huh?” Piper says with another grin, relaxing into the couch. “We’re getting pretty damn good at this.”

“You know it,” Glory says, bumping Piper’s shoulder slightly with her own. “Only question left is — what’ll we do with ourselves til then?” That last with a wink, and she’s rewarded with a pretty little blush. 

Glory can’t really figure Piper out when it comes to this. Sometimes she’s sure Piper’s attracted to her, especially when they’re alone. The way her eyes linger just a little too long, the barely-perceptible catch in her breath. But other times she’s so skittish and wary she practically runs in the other direction if Glory so much as looks at her. 

_Probably a human thing, that attraction-shame axis they always ping between._ Glory understands it intellectually, even if she doesn’t feel it herself. Sex is just one more thing her body does, one more thing she wants, and sometimes she’s so grateful she was made and not born that she feels it like an ache in her chest. Piper’s swimming in waters Glory can’t even comprehend, to be so ashamed of something that isn’t hurting anyone. 

So yeah, Glory keeps teasing her, hoping it’ll loosen the other woman up a little. Harmless flirting is basically the mission directive at this point anyway, and if Glory enjoys the way Piper’s eyes sparkle with amusement and warmth, well. There’s worse trouble she could be getting herself into here.

“Glory, unless you’ve got something up your sleeve even I don’t know about? Then I’d suggest getting you ready to head out right after,” Piper says, grinning a little wildly, trying to fight off her blush. 

“Aw baby, you trying to get rid of me?” Glory teases, twisting slightly so she was facing Piper, one arm draped along the back of the couch. “Don’t tell me you’ve got _another_ girlfriend stashed away somewhere.”

Piper rolls her eyes at that. “Oh yeah. The ladies are really beating down the doors to get a shot with ol’ Piper.” Her voice is heavy with sarcasm, and Glory doesn’t miss the hurt buried in there, too.

Glory shakes her head, her grin fading. “Well, they should be, Pipes. Anyone with half a brain would be dying to get a chance with you.”

“Stop,” Piper mutters, looking away, but her hand twitches slightly, like she can’t decide if she wants to cover her face or reach out to touch Glory or stay unnervingly still. 

“I mean it,” Glory says quietly, and abruptly she realizes how _close_ they are, sitting together like this. Just a few inches of space between them, the air sparking with an electric _something_ that’s never been there before. Piper turns slowly and meets her gaze, and Glory sees that quick intake of breath. _Ohhh shit._

The door bangs open and they both jump slightly, swiveling toward the source of the noise. 

“Piper?”

It’s Nat, and she looks...off. Glory just met the kid, but she’s sure that’s not a good expression on her face. A quick glance at Piper, and she sits up straighter, looking alert. 

“Yeah? Nat, what’s up?” Piper asks, voice a little higher than normal 

“There’s some people outside asking for you. Guys. In suits? They said —”

But before Nat can finish, the door slams open again, and the entryway is shadowed by three large male figures. 

“Piper Wright? Special delivery from Marowski,” says a thin, reedy voice, and before Piper can do more than blink in shock Glory is grabbing Nat’s skinny little arm and shoving her toward Piper. _Gun. Shotgun by the wall._

The bang of the gunshots are shockingly loud in Piper’s little house, louder than Glory can ever remember, and as she darts toward her shotgun she sees a flurry of movement out of the corner of her eye. 

Bodies don’t lie. Bodies don’t rationalize or debate. Bodies _know,_ and Piper moves on pure instinct when she pushes Nat to the ground and curls around her protectively, as if her courage would be enough to save them 

“Stay down,” Glory barks, and it only takes a second for the Triggermen to realize that there’s one extra person in the room, someone big and scary and going for a weapon. Glory dives low behind the printing press, bullets a staccato drumbeat above her head, her fingers scrabbling for the gun. 

The next bullet hits the shotgun itself, cracking the barrel clean in two. _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

Scrambling backwards, Glory scans the room frantically, looking for something, _anything._ Her eyes light on the typewriter on the desk. _Probably heavy enough._ Moving with liquid, inhuman grace, she grabs the typewriter and lines up her shot over the printing press. 

The first goon goes down with a wet crunch, the typewriter slamming directly into his face. But it’s not enough, the other two are ignoring Piper and Nat now and coming for her, and her hands are empty again. Right as she’s moving up, ready to rush them and give them a little taste of synth hand to hand combat, Piper’s muffled voice calls out. 

“Glory! Heads up!”

Glory half-turns, and there’s a scraping sound as Piper slides something across the floor to her. _Wrench. Nice._

Scooping it up without breaking her movement, Glory takes two huge steps forward and brings the wrench down in a hard arc, before either of the Triggermen have time to do more than try to swing their guns around at close range.

It connects solidly against the temple of one of them, and he staggers, eyes wide. Another quick slam across his face and there’s just one to go. The last man shouts out hoarsely, and when he meets Glory’s eyes she’s sure he’s seconds away from losing his nerve. 

Glory flips the wrench in her hand, once, and lets a feral grin stretch across her face. _That’s it, asshole. Come near me or my girl again, I dare you._ As the poor fool still left standing shakes off his hesitation, Glory’s backhanding him across the face with the wrench, and he falls bleeding to the ground just like the others. The reverberations from the impact shiver through Glory’s body, up her arm and shoulder.

“Halle _lu_ jah, motherfucker,” Glory spits through gritted teeth, the adrenaline prickling across her skin and the thrum of blood hot in her veins. The three gunmen aren’t moving, though she keeps the wrench loose and ready as she checks their pulses. _Dead. Not bad — I should’ve been timing it for the pool back at HQ._

“It’s okay,” she calls back at Piper and Nat, Piper still shielding her little sister, and the two of them slowly pick themselves up off the floor. Nat is white as a sheet and trembling with shock. 

“Are they... Did you get ‘em?” Piper asks, and even though she’s breathing hard her voice is flint and steel. 

Glory’s not surprised. Piper may look like every other soft city dweller, but she’s got a temper that burns hot as anything if something sets her off. It didn’t take long for Glory to see that Piper is incapable of backing down from a conflict, even if she know she can’t win, and something about that sings to Glory. She gets it, even if her and Piper use such different weapons that they’re sometimes incomprehensible to each other. _Piper knows it too,_ she thinks. Understands the part of Glory that’s always spoiling for a fight, for a fuck, that would rather die than back down when she knows she’s right. 

“Yeah,” Glory says, meeting Piper’s gaze. “Yeah, I got ‘em alright.”

“Good,” Piper says fiercely, and then as Nat makes a choked sound she drops to her knees and pulls her sister in for a tight hug. Nat starts to cry, quietly, and Glory feels something twist hard in her chest. 

There’s noise and movement outside, and suddenly there are two giant Diamond City Security Guards bursting through the door, one with a gun and one with his spiked swatter in a heavy two-handed grip. 

“Diamond City Security — everyone, hands up!” 

What follows is one of the biggest admin shitshows Glory’s ever had the misfortune of witnessing. The Wright sisters aren’t treated badly per se, but after an hour of questioning that veered dangerously close into ‘well if you didn’t want to get shot at, why do you insist on pissing people off?’, with everyone on the street openly gawking and jostling for a view into the house, even Piper is starting to crack under the strain. 

“Frankie,” Glory interrupts with a smile. “I know you’re just doing your job, but c’mon. This was obviously an attempted mob hit. Fortunately for everyone involved, I’m a whole lot tougher than those pricks and gave ‘em a good old DC welcome.” Just the right amount of swagger, of tough-guy flattery, and Frankie grins back at her. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he allows, and Piper’s shoulders slump slightly in relief. “Tell you what though, Glory — you ever get tired of hoofing it all over the Commonwealth, you’ve got a job at DC Security whenever you want. Settle down with your girl, put down some roots?”

Glory laughs and claps him on the shoulder, working every angle to get him to leave them in peace. “Believe me, I’ll think about it, buddy.”

“You do that. Well, I guess we’re all set here. But Piper, you might want to stay somewhere else for the night — we can get a clean-up crew in here, but…” his eyes flick toward Nat, and he trails off. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see if Nick can put us up for the night,” Piper says, arm still wrapped around Nat.

“We’ll walk you there,” Frankie says, voice softening for the first time. “Grab anything you need, and we can go now.”

************

It’s after dark by the time they get to Nick’s, and the gathering clouds are low in the sky. Rain is only a few minutes away, Glory thinks. 

The walk over had been eventful. By the time they left nearly everyone had heard what happened, and were crowding around the three of them. Most of it was fine, checking that Nat and Piper were okay, offering to buy Glory a drink next time she’s at the bar. But a few people had given her that _look,_ and before they could finish their thinly-veiled question about how Piper was trouble and what did you expect when you spent all your time causing problems, they got a taste just how _still_ and quiet Glory’s face could be. 

It’s unsettling to witness, especially when in response to a question, and Glory knows it. But _fuck_ them for coming at her with that bullshit, telling her that her girlfriend deserved…

Well, fake girlfriend. Obviously. But fuck them all the same.

It’s better, much better, now that they’re at Nick’s. Nat had been nearly silent since the attack, drawing into herself like she was trying to disappear, but once she saw Nick she practically ran into his arms, flowing toward him like water, and Piper had cracked a tiny, nearly imperceptible smile. 

Now Nat is asleep on the couch, blanket tucked carefully around her. Nick and Piper are talking quietly near the stairs, Nick promising that they could stay as long as they wanted. Piper bids Nick goodnight, and then comes out to grab the cigarettes she left on the desk. 

“Glory? Can I — I’m gonna smoke this outside, do you want to…I mean, can I talk to you?” She’s stumbling over her words, but her gaze is serious and calm. 

“Yeah, sure” Glory says, and pushes open the door, holding it for Piper to walk through first. They stand in the doorway facing the alley, and this close Glory can see that Piper is shaking very slightly. Some people are like that — steady as a rock in the actual crisis, not realizing til much later how close they came to something very, very bad. 

Piper’s trembling hands won’t cooperate when she fumbles with the lighter. She curses as the flame goes out for the fourth time, and Glory finally reaches over and gently takes the lighter from her, lingering just a little too long. Cupping her hands, she lights it and raises it up, letting Piper lean forward and suck in a breath. The tip glows cherry-red in the dark, bathing Piper’s face in a warm, orange glow. 

“Thanks,” Piper says, blowing a stream of smoke to the side, away from Glory’s face. “Christ, I haven’t even said — Thank you, Glory. For. For everything.” She looks upset and exhausted, frowning and brows drawn together. 

“No problem,” Glory says, smiling to help put her at ease. “All in a day’s work, right?”

Piper laughs a little, but it sounds strained. “For you, maybe. Shootings are still a Red Letter Day for us Wright gals.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and the first few drops of rain begin to fall, spattering the grated walkways that wind through Diamond City like a river. It smells clean and good - not a radstorm, just a regular rainshower.

“Glory...What would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there?” Piper asks quietly, gazing determinedly forward. 

“The guards would’ve come,” Glory says firmly. “You would’ve been okay. Both of you.” It’s probably true — Piper could’ve held them off long enough for back-up. But it sends a shiver of dread through Glory all the same.

“I guess even the Angel of Death is still an angel, huh?” Piper says, turning slightly to smile at her, and all at once Glory’s throat feels tight and thick. The smoke is curling around Piper like a veil, her long fingers tapping the ash off her cigarette with practiced ease.

“You going soft on me?” Glory says with a grin, trying to banish the fluttering in her gut, and is shocked to see a tear slide down Piper’s face.

“I’m always soft,” she says with a sad, mocking laugh. “Soft, weak. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Everything else is all an act.”

Glory doesn’t know what to say. She isn’t like Deacon or Foxtrot with a quip and exactly the right thing on the tip of her tongue. It’s not true, she knows it in her bones, but she doesn’t have the language to explain it right now and she doesn’t think Piper would hear her even if she tried. So she doesn’t answer, just takes a quick breath and wraps an arm around the other woman.

Piper tenses in surprise for just a second, then relaxes against her, all her breath leaving her in a rush. Glory feels Piper’s arm come up around her back, hand fisting slightly in her jacket, and Piper settles more fully against her.

She smells like ink and smoke, like the glass of whiskey Nick had pressed into her hand earlier tonight. And when someone walks by the two of them, Piper doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t get shy and pull away. Glory presses her cheek into Piper’s soft, dark hair. 

_Nothing to see here, people. Just a regular merc comforting her pretty, troublemaker girlfriend. A good cover, a damn good cover. That’s all._  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upped the rating to Explicit. Now we’re cookin’ with gas, people!

“Widen your stance a little bit. And drop your shoulders,” Glory calls over, tying the makeshift targets to the warped chain-link fence and walking back towards Piper.

The two of them are outside, doing some impromptu target practice in the abandoned slab of concrete beyond the city walls. Clouds hang low and hot overhead, and the air has a humid, gritty taste. Piper feels the uncomfortable stick of sweat between her fingers as she adjusts her grip on the pistol; it’s heavier than it used to be, courtesy of a few new modifications from Arturo. 

It’s been days since the attack, and Glory hasn’t left yet.

Piper is almost pathetically grateful, even if she’s not entirely sure how Glory managed it. She’s sure Glory has more assignments and ops to run, though she never asks too many questions about Glory’s Railroad business.

(Better not to know, Blue had assured her all those months ago; back when Glory was more concept than person, before Piper had to spackle over bullet holes in her living room walls. Better to be in the dark when it comes to the big stuff, the dangerous stuff. And if Piper has to clamp down hard on the part of her that wants to know _everything_ and wants to know it yesterday? Well. That’s the price of playing with the Big Boys, isn’t it.)

Long story short, though, Glory’s still here, and currently scolding Piper on her apparently _highly amateur_ shooting form.

“You’re way too tense. Relax,” Glory says as she draws closer, chuckling and shaking her head. Piper huffs and shifts her weight from foot to foot. Somehow, without even meaning to, they’ve settled into a comfortable, teasing back-and-forth that’s probably about as perfect for Glory’s cover as it is hell on Piper’s nerves. 

So Piper’s got a crush. Big deal.

It’s not like it’s unexpected, or beyond comprehension. Glory’s gorgeous and a freedom fighter and _saved her life_ and oh yeah. Currently pretending to be her girlfriend. Is it really so surprising that her heart beats a little faster when they brush up against each other, that her pulse flutters when Glory grins at her, wild and beautiful and just a tiny bit dangerous? She’ll never act on it, obviously. _Obviously._ That would be wrong, crossing a line of epic proportions, and it’s not like Glory’s actually _interested._ And even if she was…

But she’s not. She’s _not._ She’s playing a part, and sticking around for a few days after the attempted hit is only a part of that process.

Piper had tried to be a team player after that first night, tried to tell Glory that it was fine, she didn’t have to stay, that the Wright girls were perfectly capable of handling their PTSD on their own (and okay yeah, maybe she was trying to show off with that helpful, esoteric bit of pre-war lingo). Glory surely had bigger fish to fry than keeping an eye on them, and her and Nat completely understood. But Glory just rolled her eyes and pointedly asked Piper how that would look, if Glory the Human Merc left her girlfriend all on her lonesome after a damn Mob hit.

Couldn’t really argue with that, could she?

But now Glory’s insisting on target practice and proper gun maintenance, for her _and_ Nat, and while Piper doesn’t exactly disagree on the merits of that idea she’s still uncomfortable in a way she can’t fully explain, even to herself.

“I _am_ relaxed,” Piper grumbles, but tries to move her body into the shape Glory’s describing. “This is as relaxed as I get.”

Glory raises a single, perfect eyebrow with a grin, and Piper doesn’t even need to cut her eyes over to know Johnny and Rosie, the two DC Security guards on patrol, are lingering to watch the minor spectacle of Piper waving a gun around.

“Mmm, now that's not entirely true, Miss Wright — I can think of a _few_ times I’ve seen you more relaxed,” Glory says, slightly-too-loudly, smirk tugging at her lips. Leaning over and sliding her hand under Piper’s jacket and around Piper’s waist, Glory tugs Piper up against her. Piper lets out a little yelp of surprise, half-manufactured and half-real, her boots scuffling on the uneven ground. Glory bends down and presses the side of her face against the curve of Piper’s neck, pretending to whisper something even dirtier in her ear. Piper swallows hard, determinedly not acknowledging the swooping sensation in her lower stomach.

“Good one,” Piper says quietly, grinning a little wildly to keep herself from making some truly ridiculous noise, her arm resting automatically on Glory’s shoulder and blocking the two of them slightly from view.

“Only the best for you, Pipes.” A low murmur, the faintest impression of a mouth on her skin. And then, as the predictable wolf whistles come up from Rosie and Johnny, Glory _squeezes_ right above Piper’s hip, her palm sliding against the fabric of Piper’s shirt. Too quick, too subtle to be visible from where the guards are standing.

Just for her.

_Woah._

And before she can think about it, before she can do anything other than suck in a breath and tense up so sharply she practically goes rigid, Glory releases her. Piper stumbles back with a small laugh, making exaggerated shoo-ing motions at their audience catcalling on the other side of the street and carefully not meeting Glory’s gaze.

“Okay, show’s over,” Piper lets her voice carry, for once not trying to suppress the blush on her cheeks. “Don't you two have work to do? A city to protect, bad guys to catch, corruption to cover up?”

“Sorry, guys. Stage fright, you know,” Glory calls over to them, and waves them off with a chuckle. The guards move off with a final, smirking yell of ‘get a room’, and Piper turns to Glory with her casual, relaxed facial expression firmly in place. _No trace of fluttering heart and...other things here, no ma’am._

“So now that the peanut gallery is gone, do we actually need to stay out here?” Piper asks, another bead of sweat sliding down her neck.

“You bet your ass we do," Glory says easily. "You’re not a bad shot, but you should be practicing every few days, even when I’m not here.”

And then Glory’s standing behind her, so close she can feel the push-pull of the other woman’s breathing against her back. Lightly, Glory puts her hands over Piper’s to correct her grip, then moves lower to pull Piper’s weight back on her heels. There’s a roaring in Piper’s ears suddenly, her heart hammering in her chest, and it takes all of her considerable willpower to focus on the loaded gun in her hand and Glory’s muttered instructions, to ignore the insistent, embarrassing throb of heat between her legs.

Glory’s voice in her ear, Glory’s hands on her hips, and not for the first time Piper wonders if she’s in way, _way_ over her head with this.

*********

When they get back to Piper’s house, Blue is sitting outside on the stoop. Piper lets out a hard breath as a rush of liquid anger surges through her. _His fault, his fucking fault. Never should’ve taken that damn job in the first place._

She stalks over to him, hands balled into fists and Glory hard on her heels.

“You've got some nerve showing up here. I oughta toss you off my porch right now,” Piper says sharply, coming to a stop as Blue scrambles to his feet.

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry,” Blue says, hands halfway up to a surrender. “I never would’ve...If I’d known…”

Piper laughs, derisive and more than a little mean. “ _I_ knew! I knew, okay. I _told_ you, and you didn’t listen. You think you’re the first person to try and take on Marowski? What did you _think_ would happen?”

“You’re right. You’re completely right.” Up close, Blue looks terrible — cheeks thin and gaunt, his normally neat, close-cropped beard growing long and scraggly on the edges. Feels a twinge of sympathy, then Nat’s tear-stained face flickers in front of her and she clenches her jaw stubbornly. _No. No way in hell. It’s pure chance he didn’t get her killed._

“Hey,” Glory’s behind her again, speaking quietly. “Let’s move this inside. We’re attracting attention.”

“Who cares?” Piper says through gritted teeth, not turning around. She doesn’t want to let Blue in, wants to cast him out and bar the door behind her.

Glory puts her hand on Piper’s shoulder, warm even through layers of clothing. “I do.” Her voice is a low scrape, the pull of a knife against leather. “You can rip him a new one inside, but things need to seem back to normal right now.”

Piper lets out a frustrated breath, and the grip on her shoulder tightens sympathetically. Piper leans into Glory’s touch slightly, seeking reassurance.

“Fine, fine. C’mon,” Piper says after a beat, not bothering to hide her resentment, stomping past Blue and throwing the door open. Blue slinks in past her, head bowed, and Piper has to work hard to squash another twist of worry for him. Glory follows, her face impassive.

“Listen,” Blue says softly, as Piper shuts the door. “You have every reason to hate my guts right now, okay? I get it. I deserve it. I didn’t...I should’ve listened to you. We never should’ve done that job.”

“You think? If Glory hadn’t been here -” Piper says tightly, but Blue interrupts.

“Please. Please, just let me finish,” he says, and he looks so _sincere_ , so desperate and hangdog-sorry, that Piper feels her anger start to drain away in spite of herself. He’s quiet after that, and she realizes he’s waiting for her to give the go-ahead to keep talking.

Glory’s watching them both carefully.When Piper looks over at her she tilts her chin up slightly with a small, nearly imperceptible shrug, that Piper interprets as a ‘Might as well, right?’ signal. _Okay. Okay._ Running a hand through her hair, Piper meets his eyes and nods.

“I fucked up. I never should’ve brought you with me for that job — I knew you didn’t want to do it, but I dragged you along, and... And I am so, so sorry, Piper. When I heard, I…They won’t come after you again. I can promise that.” His eyes slide away from her, and there’s another shiver of worry for him crawling up her spine.

He’s done bad things, shameful things. They all have. Most of the time she doesn’t think about it, about what he’s had to do to survive. Piper saw him after he dragged himself back from Fort Hagan, saw the empty look in his eyes and the hard, grim set of his mouth as he bled all over Dr. Sun’s floor. When he recounted what he’d done to Kellogg with a steely, detached calm. When he said he’d do it again. With pleasure. Shaun’s my _child,_ he’d said. As if that should be enough for anyone to understand.

She wonders what he did this time. If he did it for her, and for Nat. Wonders if she even wants to know.

“Okay,” Piper says, and the gaze Blue turns on her is so nakedly hopeful that she feels it like the pressure of a hand around her heart. “Okay. I know you didn’t _mean_ to, Blue, of course I do. It’s...well, it turned out okay, I guess. We’re all fine, in the end, so it’s fine, okay?”

Blue approaches her, hands out and palms up, and when she reaches out hesitantly he takes her hands in his, squeezing almost painfully. Gently, he brings them up to his mouth and kisses her curled-up fingers, eyes closing. _Some Pre-War gesture,_ she thinks distantly, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in her throat.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against her knuckles, then releases her with a final press of his lips.

Piper stands awkwardly for a moment, fumbling with how to respond. No one had ever apologized to her like _that_ before. No one had really given that much of a damn about her opinion of them. She inhales slowly, breathing into the silence.

“So we good?” Glory asks carefully. Her eyes are trained on Piper.

Piper bites her lip, glancing back at Blue, and nods once. It doesn’t escape her notice that Glory was asking _her_ , not Blue, and a ripple of guilt-tinged happiness thrums through her at the thought. Her and Glory, on the same side, even against another Railroad agent.

“Alright, then. All better,” Glory says, her lips curling into a small grin. “I’m guessing you’re not here just to throw yourself on Piper’s tender mercies, Foxtrot?”

“Yeah,” Blue says, his soft gaze lingering on Piper for a few more seconds before turning to Glory. “Time to report in. Story is I’m ‘hiring’ you as an extra gun for Minuteman stuff, so we can leave for HQ as soon as you’re ready.”

Piper’s heart sinks, and she looks away. She knew Glory would have to leave soon, knew this was a special, one-time-only thing, to have her stay for so long. But… Well. It had been nice while it lasted.

“Now?” Glory says, sounding surprised, and Piper chances a glance up at Glory’s face, but her expression is smooth and even. _Or you just can’t read her as well as you think you can,_ Piper thinks sourly.

“Pretty much,” Blue says, with a trace of apology. “You need to do anything before you head out?”

Glory frowns. “Yeah. Yeah, lemme stop by Valentine’s place for a sec, and maybe grab something for the road. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Sure. I can wait here...if that’s okay with Piper,” Blue says, tilting it into a question.

Piper nods, schooling her expression into neutrality. “That’s fine. Glory, do you want me to…”

“Nah,” Glory says, already turning toward the door. “I’ll take care of it myself — be right back.” Tosses a wink at Piper over her shoulder on her way out.

A long, uncomfortable moment, and then Piper throws her hands up and sighs gustily.

“Okay, we have to just get over this,” she says loudly, and Blue starts a little at the sound. “Come sit with me or something — we can’t just stand here silently.”

“Good thing I brought a peace offering, then,” he says with a smile and quirk of his eyebrow, and he bends to dig through his pack while Piper sits on the couch. “See? Nuka Cherries, and a perfectly preserved pack of cigarettes.”

Piper smiles back, and reaches out for the offered treasures. “Aw. Thanks, Blue.” She examines the cigarettes, the spicy smell of tobacco clinging to the packaging. Blue sits gingerly down on the couch next to her, clearly still a bit wary.

“No problem,” he says, in a close approximation of his normally chipper tone. Piper’s starting to feel slightly embarrassed for ripping into him, now that the initial rush of anger has dissipated.

“Do me a favor though; don’t tell Glory?” Piper says with a sideways glance and a grin, wanting to steer things back to their usual friendly terrain. “She gives me crap for smoking too much. As if that’s more dangerous than whatever she gets up to with you guys.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, actually,” Blue says, taking the cigarette that Piper offers him and fishing a lighter out of his pocket. “How are things between you two?”

“W-What do you mean?” Piper stutters, higher and squeakier than usual. “Did she — did she say anything?”

“Only that the assignment wasn’t as bad as she thought,” Blue shrugs. “But Glory can be kind of a handful. Just wondering how you were handling it.”

“Things are good. Fine. It’s actually kind of nice, having her around,” Piper says, deliberately casual, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Nat likes her.”

“Just Nat, huh?” Blue rubs the back of his neck and peeks up at her with his warm brown eyes, the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Willing to shut it down again if she’s still pissed, but offering up a truce if she’ll take it.

“Blue…” Piper warns, her cheeks starting to heat up.

“What?” Blue says, fully grinning now. “I just think it’s nice that you two are...getting along. You’re the talk of the town, you know.”

Piper lets out a groan. “I know, okay. I know. Everyone’s thrilled to have something to gossip about. Glory swears it’s good for the op; it was her idea to go with it, you know.”

She’s a little defensive, she can hear it in her own voice, but she can’t help it. There’s a part of her that still feels like a creep, no matter how many times Glory reassures her that it’s fine. She didn’t _know_ it would shake out this way, girlfriends instead of friends, but still.

“Oh, I’m sure it was. Glory’s always been a sucker for a pretty...cover,” Blue says blandly, and when Piper narrows her eyes suspiciously he laughs outright.

“Don’t,” Piper says, feeling prickly. “Nothing’s _happening._ Nothing. I wouldn’t...And _she_ definitely wouldn’t…It’s just _acting,_ we both know that. It’s for the _mission._ We’re both...we keep it...professional,” she finishes lamely.

“Relax,” Blue says gently, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “I’m only teasing. You two just seem, I don't know. Close. It’s good.”

A click and a rattle, and Glory’s walks through the door, two packages of Snack Cakes tucked under one arm. Piper’s head cracks around, and she springs to her feet in a fit of nervous energy. 

“No luck?” she asks quickly. “At Nicky’s, I mean?” _Please, please don’t ask what we were talking about. I’d hate to survive a mob hit only to be forced to jump off a bridge in embarrassment._

“No luck,” Glory confirms with a resigned expression, continuing on up the stairs to where her pack is stored. “Left a message with Ellie, though. Shouldn't be a problem.”

“Good, okay,” Piper says. “I can swing by later, too, if you want.”

Glory leans down over the railing, her pack dangling from one hand. “Really? That'd be great — thanks, beautiful,” she says, her familiar half-grin warming Piper down to the tips of her toes.

Piper laughs. _Just a joke. Just a game._ “No problem, Sweetums,” she shoots back, resolutely ignoring the smirk Blue is hiding behind a fake cough.

“Pipes, could you at least do me the courtesy of a sexy nickname?” Glory grumbles, fiddling with stray straps.

“I'll work on that for next time...babe?” Piper offers.

“Better.”

Clattering down the stairs, Glory hoists her pack and her gun over her shoulder, patting her pockets absently. _It’s all happening so fast,_ Piper thinks wistfully. _Twenty minutes of warning, and she’s gone again._

“All set?” Blue asks, standing and stubbing his cigarette out.

“Lead the way,” Glory says, and playfully bumps her shoulder against Piper as she squeezes past her to the door. "You wanna walk us out? Give me something to look forward to on the long, lonely road ahead?”

_This is her assignment. You are her job. Be an adult for once in your life._

“That’s the Standard Operating Procedure, right?” Piper grins, opening the door and trying to tamp down the burble of excitement in her stomach. They usually make somewhat of a show of it when Glory leaves, make sure people at least see them hug or hold hands.

(Never more than that. Not that Piper hasn’t thought about it, hasn’t wondered if they might...if they really needed it to look real...but then, if people needed proof, then they must not be very convincing, right? So it’s good, that they haven’t had to do more than that. It’s better this way.)

Glory and Piper linger in the open doorway while Blue stands outside, turned politely away, ostensibly to give them a little privacy.

“So this is it, huh?” Piper says, aiming for breezily unconcerned. She leans in, resting her hand on Glory’s upper arm.

“For now,” Glory agrees, and to Piper it sounds like a promise. “Say goodbye to Nat for me, aright? Next time she can test out the rifle.” That last with a teasing edge, and Piper rolls her eyes luxuriously.

“Not on your life,” Piper retorts, and Glory’s laugh is as clear and beautiful as the crack of a bell.

Glory steps even closer, one arm curling around Piper’s waist, and presses her cheek against Piper’s. She smells like gunpowder and sweat, her body warm even against Piper’s flushed face. The sudden, light brush of Glory’s lips against her earlobe sends sparks of electricity dancing across Piper’s skin.

“Take care of yourself Wright,” Glory whispers, and presses a soft, quick kiss behind Piper’s ear. Piper _shivers_ and takes a sharp, involuntary breath.

 _Crap, she definitely felt that._ But when Glory pulls away it’s the same old grin, nothing unusual on her face, and Piper shoves down the confusing swirl of relief and disappointment twisting in her stomach.

“Bye,” she says, sounding a little wobbly, and squeezes Glory’s upper arm before releasing her. She waves them off, watching until they disappear over the tops of the steps out of the city.

Walking back into her house and kicking off her shoes, she’s struck by how _empty_ it seems. It’s been just her and Nat for years, so it’s not like being alone in a new experience. She doesn’t mind it, even prefers it sometimes. But now, after Glory, it feels almost desolate.

She paces for a few seconds, energized and jittery, before climbing the stairs and flopping down on the bed. _Maybe I can get some reading done,_ she thinks, pulling out a battered mystery novel from the small pile on her dresser and opening it to the dog-eared page. Stuffing two pillows under her head, she beds her legs and puts her feet flat on the mattress, resting the book on the cradle of her thighs.

Lying on the bed like this, she can almost imagine that Glory’s next to her, on the little cot they set up on the floor. Closing her eyes, Piper takes a deep breath and can almost, _almost_ detect the faint smell of gun oil that Glory uses, can almost hear her slow, measured breathing, can imagine the shape of her face in the dark.

Almost without thinking, Piper slides a hand between her legs, knocking the book aside. Dragging her fingers lightly over the seam of her pants, she gasps at how _good_ it feels. She rubs herself a little harder, her hips arching off the bed instinctively and her breath speeding up. The tang of gunpowder in her nose, and Glory’s face blooms in her mind. She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t. But the press of Glory’s lips against her skin left her _burning_ , and she can’t stop her imagination from leaping ahead.

Glory’s tongue in her mouth, Glory’s hands on her skin, Glory naked on her back with her legs spread, grinning and waiting for Piper to crawl toward her.

_Fuuuck._

Glancing up and around, making sure the door was locked, Piper thumbs open the button on her pants. Shimmying her hips slightly to make room for her hand, she dips her fingertips just under the elastic waistband of her underwear. Piper bites her lip against the fleeting, shivery feeling, and gently drags her fingers over her cunt through the fabric of her underwear, finally pressing down on her swollen clit with a choked cry.

Piper imagines it’s Glory flat on her back on the bed. The sly look in her eye, the calloused hands stroking her skin, urging her down. Piper imagines Glory’s legs on her shoulders, pulling her closer, closer, _closer._

Abandoning all pretense, Piper slips her hand past her underwear and starts circling her clit with tight, practiced movements, absorbing an impression of how wet she is already. Pleasure ripples across her skin, her mind filled with frantic, snapshot fantasies, stuttering across them all, too greedy to pick just one. Glory’s mouth on her nipple, her tongue on Glory’s slick cunt, Glory flipping her over and fucking her with her fingers, Glory moaning while she makes her feel _good,_ so good, so, _so_ good.

God, she’s close already, her thighs trembling, her soft panting drowning out the wet sounds of her fingers working her cunt. Shoving her free hand hurriedly under her shirt, she pushes her bra out of the way and twists her nipple, a delicious counterpoint to the tension between her legs.

The sudden, heavy slam of a door jerks her out of her pleasure-drenched haze. Mortified, Piper hastily pulls her hands away and pulls her clothing into some semblance of order, jumping off the bed and stumbling a little in panic.

“Nat? Blue?” she calls out, turning toward the door. She is _not_ going to say Glory’s name, not after that.

But no. There’s no one. _Must just be the neighbors_ , she thinks in relief, her heart slamming in her throat.

Standing there, still hot and pulsing between her legs, Piper tries to pull herself together. The air smells like sweat and the musky heat of her own arousal, but now that she's upright and breathing more slowly and hyperaware of her surroundings, she starts to feel the knife-sharp prickle of guilt.

“Stop it,” she mutters out loud to herself, willing her body to cool off. “Just stop it, okay?”

Piper doesn't know the details of Glory’s life in the Institute, has never — _would_ never — ask, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out Glory has a long, ugly history of being used by humans. Humans who didn't see her as a person, who didn't give a damn about what she wanted, who only cared about what Glory could _do_ for them. _Do you really want to be one of those people?_

“She deserves better,” Piper whispers to herself, walking down the stairs and firmly unlocking the door.

Better than some pathetic woman perving on her, better than a partner who couldn't tell the difference between reality and a fantasy, who couldn’t even wait ten minutes before shoving a hand down her pants and rubbing one out to the thought of...

Piper grits her teeth and drums her fingers on her spare typewriter (not the one Glory smashed, the one Glory hurled at a gunman to save Piper’s life, the one she lifted so easily it looked light as a feather). She sits at her desk and determinedly starts typing up the notes for her next article, frustrated and ashamed and still achingly turned on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you spot the Buffy reference!

Packing’s become somewhat of a problem these days. Glory pulls the worn canvas bag open and stands still for a moment, ignoring the other agents milling around HQ, their murmured conversations a steady, comforting rumble.

It’s the ambiguity, she thinks ruefully. After the attempted hit Glory refuses to go into Diamond City unarmed, but she also can’t keep showing up with the latest and greatest Railroad armor strapped to her. Most mercs can’t afford to replace or upgrade their gear nearly as often as she already has, and the looks she’s getting from Arturo are just this side of suspicious.

_Probably just thinks I’m taking my business elsewhere._

But still. It’s not in her nature to suit up with anything less than the best, and this is the first mission so far that’s anything more than recon. Time to start cultivating the trust you’ve been growing there, Des had said last night, and even though Glory’s being cautious excitement is fizzing through her. Not only for the action, but for the chance to... Glory grins to herself, wrapping her comm unit in a pair of extra socks and shoving it in the side pocket of her pack. The chance to see Piper again, and see if she keeps up those little shivers and blushes once Glory gets her hands on her for real.

This is it, she thinks, and a jolt of anticipation and arousal curls in her stomach. She’s sure Piper feels the same; she practically vibrates with suppressed need every time they touch, with swallowed gasps she probably thinks Glory can’t hear and the heat pouring off her. _Enough dancing around. We’ll get this software where it needs to go, then I’m gonna find out what she tastes like._

“Focus,” she mutters to herself, shaking her head and laughing a little. “One thing at a time.” She grabs the Medi-Box Carrington gave her and lays it flat in the pack, then pulls an unopened emergency food ration bar out of her jacket pocket and tosses it in for good measure.

“Hey,” Deacon’s somehow at her elbow, appearing out of thin air like the ghost he might actually be.

“Hmmm?” Glory replies, not looking up from her pack. _Better bring the heavy boots with the knife holster. Just in case._

“You got a minute?” Deacon’s as casual as ever, but the tightness in his voice snaps Glory to attention.

“Sure,” she says, mirroring his mellow body language, but looking up and meeting his gaze. The two of them don’t always agree, can sometimes barely tolerate each other, but she trusts him completely and she likes to think she can read him as well as anyone except his partner.

Deacon jerks his head sideways, pointing her to the little-used tunnels near the back of the main room. Gritting her teeth against the sudden sour taste in her mouth, Glory leads the way past Des and Carrington without a backwards glance.

“What’s up?” she says after reaching a safe distance from the entrance, stepping carefully over a puddle of scummy water with a grimace. Her heart is kicking around in her ribs and she takes a deliberately slow breath, calming her jangled nerves. Deacon rarely goes for these private chats, and now, right before her trip to see Piper, is the last time she wants to deal with trouble. _Fucking figures._

“So you’re doing another run to Diamond City, huh?” Deacon stubs out his cigarette on the wall and drops it on the ground.

“Yes,” Glory says, drawing the vowel out slowly. She knows he knows. “So?”

“So,” Deacon says, shoving his hands in his pockets, and the hairs on Glory’s neck stand up. “I talked to Foxtrot the other day, and he said you and Piper are getting pretty close. You’re giving her shooting tips, going on dates, the whole shebang.”

“Yeah?” Glory says defensively, wondering not for the first time if Deacon could actually read minds. “That’s the assignment. I’m not seriously getting a lecture from you, of all people, about building a good cover, am I?”

“Nope, definitely not,” Deacon says in that same irritatingly casual voice. “Your story’s airtight. Almost too...look. The point of a cover? Is that it’s fake.”

Glory flushes, heat washing across her cheeks as she realizes what he’s saying. “Fuck you, Deacon,” she says, cursing the dark sunglasses he hid behind. _Prick._ “I’m doing my job, the job you and Dez practically _begged_ me to take, and now you’re worried I’m doing it too well.”

“Glory, listen,” Deacon says, stepping closer and sounding as serious as she’d ever heard him. “You know if it was anyone but her...hell, someone here should be gettin’ some, right? But this has gotten out of control. It never should’ve been like this between you two, and you both need to dial it way back, from DC’s Favorite Couple to 'plausible friendship' levels.”

“Why?” Glory says hotly, abandoning any pretense. “It’s the perfect reason for me to be there!”

“Because,” Deacon says, frustration scraping the edges of his words. “Because there’s always a non-zero chance that you’ll get caught. And Piper...if you’re both just friends, then she could say she had no idea, that you were impersonating her old buddy, or something. Even if it’s a worst case scenario and she can’t convince them she was tricked, being a Railroad-connected rabble rouser isn’t too far off from where she is now. But if you’re sleeping together...”

Glory’s breaths sounds unnaturally loud and harsh to her own ears. A sudden vision of Piper on the day of the attack, surrounded by a blurry crowd of people who’d been hungry for her pain flashes in her mind. _No. No no no._

“That’s not…” Glory says, swallowing hard. “I mean, _fuck_ Deacon, that could happen anyway! We don’t have to be...you know, for her to get…”

“Not logically, no. But logic doesn’t really enter into an angry mob’s reactions,” Deacon says bitterly. “It _matters._ It will matter that to them that she was just another confused idiot duped by the Institute, or at worst a naive sympathizer, and not a…well.”

He doesn’t finish, chews on his lower lip and tilts his head downward as if to spare her the sentiment, but she hears it loud and clear. _Synthfucker. It matters that she’s not a synthfucker._

Gritting her teeth, Glory’s silent for a long moment. She knows Deacon’s looking out for her, or at least he thinks he is, and again she sees those warped faces leering at Piper, gleeful and malicious. _But this is stupid,_ she thinks resentfully. _Deacon’s just shoving all his anxieties and paranoia on me. This was always the risk of undercover, and she’s gonna be screwed either way now. We both knew what we were doing when we signed up for this._

Taking a slow breath, Glory looks up at him and gives him her best ‘Fuck You, I’ll Do What I Want’ grin. “I will take that under advisement.”

“C’mon, I’m serious,” Deacon says, a note of desperation in her voice, and reaches out for her. “You could get her _killed._ ”

“No, _you_ could get her killed. You and Des and Foxtrot all decided that was an acceptable level of risk when you assigned us this job,” Glory shoots back, wrenching away from him and turning around to head back to HQ.

“Please Glory, just _listen_ to me for once!”

“Or what?” Glory turns on her heel to face him again. “You gonna tattle on me? Gonna rat me out to Des about what a bad, disobedient synth I’m being?” It’s a low blow, but Glory’s already learned the hard way: when winning’s important, you _win._

“No,” he says after a slight pause. “No, of course not.”

“Then trust _me_ ,” she says, letting her expression soften, her Yao Guai-edged grin fading into a small smile. “I got this, man.”

Deacon sighs and scratches the back of his head, fingers reaching up under the edge of the wig. “Okay. Okay.”

She doesn’t wait, just heads back through the tunnel and leaves him standing there alone. Glory knows if she gives him enough time he’ll just come at her again from another angle. Speed’s the key with Deacon — it’s near-impossible to outmaneuver him, but he moves so slowly that she can usually outrun him.

_And he’s not always right, no matter what he thinks. He’s not right about everything,_ she thinks stubbornly.

*********

“It’s officially midnight — are we ready to do this?”

Piper’s voice is low and hushed, a whisper even though Nat’s been asleep for hours, but Glory can see her buzzing with anticipatory tension. She’s bouncing very slightly on the balls of her feet with her hands twisting together in front of her, and barely suppressing a tight grin. It’s not unappealing, but Glory knows they need to take it down a notch if they’re going to remain unnoticed while loitering around McDonough’s office.

“Relax, killer. This isn’t a game,” Glory says, her matching grin taking the sting out of the words.

“I mean, it kind of is, right? We’re breaking into McDonough’s office to put secret spy software on his computer! C’mon, you’re not even a little excited?” Piper’s undeterred, her dark eyebrows arched in a challenge. She’d changed out of her bright red coat on Glory’s insistence and was wearing a threadbare black sweater instead, the neckline dipping low enough to expose her delicate collarbones. The all-black look suits her, Glory can’t help noticing, with her hair tied back and her cheeks pleasantly flushed.

_Little Miss Reporter, you have no idea._

“Eh. This clinging to the shadows, hacker shit isn’t exactly my forte,” Glory says dryly, rolling her shoulders and following Piper out of her house into the deserted street.

It’s not nearly dark enough for Glory’s taste, not with the moon and the stars and the old stadium lights shining overhead, but Piper heads straight for the back alleys to give them some cover. Glory matches Piper’s stride, the adrenaline prickling along her skin as she deliberately relaxes her posture.

“You know I’m always happy to expand your horizons,” Piper says, and Glory doesn’t miss the smothered laugh in her voice.

Something’s different tonight. They always flirt — it’s part of the job — but Piper’s usually more restrained, shyer, when it’s just the two of them. Tonight she seems almost giddy, high on the adventure or the thrill of the mission, and Glory tries very, very hard to suppress the flush of hopeful anticipation that flutters in her stomach.

They make their way toward the office, murmuring quietly to each other to avoid an intense, obvious, Up To No Good silence that tends to attract attention. Just two people out for a midnight stroll, loose and easy, Piper gently steering them both on a meandering path to the emergency exit ladder that winds upward to the prize above. Glory reaches into her pocket to triple-check that Tom’s tape is still there, small enough to conceal completely in her fist, and she grips it tight enough to hurt. The muted buzz of massive generators that power the city reverberates up through the soles of Glory’s feet like a shiver, like the burn of Sikanda but in reverse, and for the first time she gets why Deacon and some other agents are practically addicted to these infiltration jobs.

There’s an aggression, a serious ‘fuck you’, in climbing in through the window and swiping the goodies before anyone even knows you’re there. She’d always thought it was a job for the calm, for the tranquil and peaceful, but there’s a level of viciousness to this that she’s learning to appreciate. It’s got nothing on going in with guns blazing, but few things do.

“Okay,” Piper says quietly once they’re standing at the base of the ladder. “Me first, then you.” She’s breathing slowly, steadying herself, hands resting lightly on the first rung to keep from fidgeting.

“You first,” Glory confirms. Piper’s probably talking more to herself than asking Glory, but a little backup never hurts during your first field mission. “And I’ll be right behind you.”

“Right,” Piper says, her chin firming up, expression snapping into her Piper Resolve Face. _And God help anyone who gets in her way,_ Glory thinks fondly.

One more quick glance, one more reassuring nod, and Piper swings herself up the ladder. She moves silently, slower than Glory would’ve preferred but not making a sound, and Glory wonders if Piper was fibbing earlier when she said she’d never broken into the Mayor’s office before. She’s certainly no stranger to shimmying up the ladder, at least.

Glory makes sure to lean casually against the ladder and pats her pockets, miming looking for a lighter or a cigarette in case their luck goes totally to shit and someone spots her. Once Piper’s at the top, Glory sees the pause while she picks the lock. _C’mon. C’mon, girl._ Then, just as Glory starts feeling the beginnings of worry, Piper’s silhouette slips inside. _Jackpot._ Glory grins, waiting for Piper to give the all clear signal before hauling herself up. Not as quiet as Piper, but in no time she’s squeezing through the window and pulling it shut.

The office is dark, only the ambient light from the city below illuminating the room, and when Piper steps closer to her she’s mostly obscured in darkness. Shadow Piper, Mission Piper, Piper with her teeth bared in a wild grin that Glory hasn’t seen before, eyes black and glittering and sharp. She reaches out, wrapping her fingers around Glory’s wrist and pulls her forward, and for one thrilling, impossible moment Glory thinks she’s going to reel her in for a kiss.

“This way,” Piper says, so quietly it’s more a whisper of air than words, her breath ghosting across Glory’s face, then releases her.

_Now who’s getting overexcited?_ Glory gives herself a firm mental smack and pulls the tape from her pocket. Piper’s already past the receptionist’s desk and looming over the Mayor’s terminal, booting it up and typing in the stolen password. It takes a few agonizing minutes for her to do whatever Tom instructed, then Piper’s popping in the tape and letting it do its thing.

Glory leaves her to it. There’s a faint glow of green light pooling in the room now from the terminal screen, and Glory’s nerves are amping up with every passing second. If they get caught their orders are to let Piper take the lead and talk their way out, but the longer the stay the harder it’ll be to pass this off as anything other than a break-in.

And then, from somewhere a few stories below, the sound of heavy footsteps and the squeak of rickety stairs. Glory’s heart leaps into her throat and she automatically reaches for the knife strapped to the inside of her jacket.

“Time’s up,” she says, low and urgent, and Glory sees the fear ripple across Piper’s face.

“Twenty more seconds,” Piper says, and Glory suppresses the urge to curse.

“No. Now,” she says, in a hard voice she knows scares the shit out of most green recruits. Piper flinches, but clenches her jaw stubbornly.

“Fifteen more seconds — we’re so _close,_ ” Piper says, the last word splintering with frustration, but the footsteps are getting louder.

“Piper,” Glory warns, and just as Glory reaches over to grab her around the arm and drag her out Piper lets out a hushed cry of triumph.

“Done! Done!” she says fiercely, tearing the tape out of the terminal and pocketing it before blanking the screen with a single keystroke.

They both rush back to the window, Piper’s shaking hands fumbling with the latch, but with an anguished, sinking pit in her stomach Glory hears someone unlocking a back door, someone muttering quietly to themselves, and she’s sure she’ll have to kill them. _Stupid fucking guard, couldn’t stay away and alive for five more minutes._

Piper’s head whips around — this time she hears it too — and something flickers in her eyes too fast for Glory to read.

“Sorry,” Piper whispers, so quietly Glory almost misses it, and then she’s kissing her.

Glory’s stunned for half a second, mind stuttering to a stop. _Piper. Piper’s kissing...Oh. Oh!_ And Glory’s not stupid, knows why Piper’s doing this, but she’s never been one to pass up a golden opportunity. Death is always right around the corner for her, and every moment of joy is precious. And this, even with Deacon’s warning and her own good sense warning her off, this is something she wants. Glory wraps one arm around Piper’s waist and tangles the other in her dark hair, and if her mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied she’d be grinning a mile wide, would whoop and holler and cry fucking _victorious_ because Piper’s mouth is hot and slick and perfect, and when Glory deepens the kiss she _moans_ low and needy.

She pulls Piper closer, almost lifting her off her feet, having enough presence of mind to shift so whoever catches them gets as much of a distracting eyeful as possible. Gotta make this count, she thinks distantly, most of her attention focused on Piper pressing up against her like she can’t get enough, and the thought of doing this again without all these damn clothes between them makes Glory growl and grip her tighter.

“Holy sh-! What the hell??”

Glory can't place who it is behind the mask, just a shadowy figure and the ominous click of a bullet entering the chamber of a gun. She pivots away from Piper, twisting her expression into something close to mortified, hands up as meek as she can manage.

“Sherri, it's us! Jesus, don't shoot!” Piper sounds convincingly breathless, her voice tight and pinched, and Glory spares a moment to marvel at Piper’s ability to recognize anyone, no matter how bizarre the circumstance.

“Piper??” Sherri says, lifting her mask to reveal her face, and Glory’s hopes rise up another notch. She does know her — not as well as some of the others, but enough to exchange idle chatter once or twice, and maybe enough to squeak past without any violence.

Sherri stares at them for a moment, face slack with abject shock, before she shakes it off and holsters her pistol.

“What the _fuck_ are you two doing up here?” she asks flatly, and Glory makes a show of wincing, of looking properly chastised for a low-level offense.

“It’s my fault,” Piper says quickly, helpfully blushing so brightly Sherri was sure to notice. “I - you know, we were going for a…a walk, to get a little s-space, and I was telling Glory about the view from up here, a-and —”

“And then I was an idiot,” Glory cuts in, laying a hand on Piper’s shoulder and squeezing. “It’s stupid — I dared her to break in, like when we were kids. We used to pull pranks like that all the time, and I guess I was feeling...nostalgic.”

“No, no!” Piper says, shaking her head and looking imploringly at Sherri. It’s a good act — embarrassed, flustered Piper tripping over her words to explain herself is a lot more charming than how the guards normally see her. “It’s me, I knew it was a bad idea, I just... Please Sherri, Glory didn’t really get how _not_ -okay this was. I shouldn’t’ve been such a show-off.”

Sherri looked between them, her brown eyes uncomfortably calculating. “Piper, I don’t gotta explain how very, very bad this could get with the Mayor, do I?”

Piper lets out a showy, gusty breath and chews on a thumbnail, eyes skittering away in a facsimile of shame. “I know. I know. It’ll never happen again, I _swear._ ”

“It better not,” Sherri says firmly, jabbing a finger at them. “Christ you scared me half to death, all for a teenage dare and a freakin’ makeout session. Don’t you have a home for this kinda crap, Piper?”

“Well, you know, Nat’s there,” Piper says, looking pleadingly at Sherri. “And Glory’s out on the road so much and we never know when she’ll be able to make it back, so…” She trails off, and Glory holds her breath.

Sherri sighs, long and heavy, finally cracking a tiny grin, and to Glory it feels like the thrill of victory all over again, hard and sweet. “Okay. Okay. I know it’s hard to get privacy, you lookin’ after your sister and all. But this is _it_ , you hear me? _Either_ of you step even one toe out of line again, or if I find so much as a paperclip’s gone missing and I will personally see that you get fined or locked up, you understand me?”

“Yes! Yes, definitely. Oh, thank you, thank you!” Piper says, slumping with a relief that’s probably not that exaggerated. “You’re the best Sherri, seriously. Next...hell, four rounds at the Dugout are on me.”

“You bet your ass they are,” Sherri says, but her smile is bigger now, and turns to Glory. “And you — I thought your job was to keep her _out_ of trouble, not get her into more of it.”

Glory grins and snaps into a salute. “Ma’am, yes ma’am,” she says, and is rewarded with an affection eye roll from Sherri. “But thank you. Really.”

“Gettin’ soft in my old age,” Sherri says ruefully, shaking her head and opening the door to the official staircase down to the city proper. “Okay, down you go, then straight home, aright?”

“We will,” Glory promises, and claps her on the shoulder before following Piper down the stairs.

They don’t talk on the walk back, only Piper’s incredulous whispered litany of ‘oh my god, oh my god’ as she realizes again how close she came to her life careening off the rails. Glory can’t really blame her — now that they’re out of that room, out of the eerie green glow and the deep shadows and the adrenaline-soaked thrill, it all feels so surreal it could be a dream.

“You okay?” Glory asks finally, shoulder-bumping Piper slightly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Piper says, her pupils blown wide and dark, but the corners of her mouth quirk upward. “Just, you know. Wow. We did it, right?”

“Hell yeah we did,” Glory says, grinning back at her, and when Piper bites her lower lip with a smile, Glory has a bright, technicolor flash of the taste of those lips, of Piper shivering against her. But then, unbidden, a voice that sounds annoyingly like Deacon echoes in her head — _synthfucker_ — and the arousal and anticipation drain away like water.

She doesn’t have to listen to him. She _doesn’t._ He knows fuck-all about what’s going on here, about what it’s like between them, what it feels like to see Piper triumphant and shining and so damn clever she leaves everyone else in the dust.

They have an undeniable connection, and it’s Deacon’s own problem if all he’s interested in is punishing himself for whatever crimes he thinks he’s guilty of. Her and Piper like each other, and what’s so wrong with reaping the side benefits and fucking Piper into the mattress til she can’t move, til she’s boneless and satisfied? God knows she could use it.

But. But but but, if she’s being honest, she doesn't want it to be just that between them. Piper deserves more than just a quick fuck, for something that will mangle her up inside. Glory glances over at her, at her sunburned cheeks and the freckles barely visible on the bridge of her nose, and for the very first time Glory realizes just how _much_ Piper gave up for this.

_Fuck, how is she ever going to find someone now? With me hovering behind her, needing her to keep this up so I can stay connected here? She can't. She can't ever go on a date, can’t ever be with some cute girl and say “Oh, no worries, that's just my synth revolutionary fake girlfriend! It's all good!”_

And if the thought makes Glory clench her jaw, makes her hands twitch with annoyance at Piper cuddling up with someone who was definitively Not Her, well. Maybe Deacon had a point. Not the one he was trying to make — fuck that self-flagellation, Life Is Suffering bullshit — but there’s something true in it all the same. Piper’s the only one getting burned by this arrangement, and there’s only one thing Glory can do that won’t hurt her in the end.

She knows then, with sudden and painful clarity, what she needs to do.

They stop at Piper’s doorstep, her little porch light flickering slightly as moths hover around it, and Glory steels herself against every instinct that screaming at her to stay, to pick up right where they left off, to get Piper panting against her while she licks a hot stripe up her neck.

“Hey,” Glory says softly, and Piper turns to face her, eyebrow raised.

“Hmm?”

“Look, I hate to steal classified information and run, but I need to head back to HQ,” Glory says, keeping her words steady and even, and the flash of surprised disappointment in Piper’s eyes cuts her to the quick.

“Really? Oh,” Piper says, her shoulders visibly sagging. “I thought — I thought you might stay the night, at least. For. For _your_ sake, I mean. Traveling at night, no sleep…” She gestures vaguely, her gloved hands sketching a circle in the night air.

“I don’t really need sleep,” Glory says gently. “Not like you do, anyway.”

“Right. Duh,” Piper says faintly, shaking her head. “Of course. Well, I don’t want to keep you, if you want to…”

“Need to. I’d much rather stay here and help you celebrate your first Railroad heist,” Glory says before she can stop herself, punching Piper lightly in the arm. _Friendly. Friendly friends, who maybe kissed once but that’s it._

Piper manages a strained, sad smile, and Glory’s synthetic heart feels heavy as a stone, calcified and cracked down the center. “Okay. Well, that was fun, at least. The job, I mean! Not the...I mean, that was...Nevermind.”

Piper turns away, blushing again, and Glory feels that _moment_ stretching between them again, fragile and possible, beautiful and clean.

“See you around, Wright,” Glory says finally, promising she’d give Piper a rundown of the ‘no more romance angle’ next time. She doesn’t think she can do it tonight, not after everything. _Later. Once we've both cooled down._

“Bye,” Piper says quietly, and the moonlight in her hair looks like silvered onyx, like something otherworldly and alien that’s already beyond Glory’s reach.

Glory waits until Piper is safely inside, until she hears the click of the deadbolt sliding shut, then starts trekking up the stairs to head out of the city. The smell of the place clings to her, smokey and electric and a hint of what Glory would swear is pure venom.

_Damn humans. Blew up the whole fucking world and then rebuilt it on my back, and now they’re stealing my girlfriend, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can safely add 'Mutual Pining' to the tags now


	6. Chapter 6

Even though it’s the second time she’s been invited here, Piper still feels a little nervous, a little jumpy, as Blue leads her down the steps underneath the ancient, crumbling North Church to the ‘front door’ of Railroad HQ. Partly it’s the ferals that Blue walks by without a second glance, left scattered and snapped and unnervingly still along every step. The odd green glow from the fungus that clings to the walls doesn’t help either, washing over both of them and deepening the shadows in the corners; but it’s more than that.

She’s been working with Glory and the Railroad for months now, but she can’t quite shake the shiver that whispers up her spine when she walks under the white lantern painted above the door frame. The Railroad is still a legend, a campfire story: the final stop on the Freedom Trail, the X that marks the spot, the last and best haven for runaway synths.

Sometimes she still can’t believe she’s a part of the synth resistance.

_Well, sort of. More like a freelancer for the resistance,_ Piper thinks, her boots splashing in a puddle of something that probably doesn’t bear thinking about. Piper’s still not an official member of the organization; it’s better that way, Blue and Glory both tell her, but Piper’s never been big on being shut out of things. She knows she’s been doing fine on her assignment, knows that probably it’s safer and more efficient to stay in the cozy Plausible Deniability Zone she’s floating in, but still.

“This shouldn’t take too long, Pipes,” Blue’s voice bounces off the stone walls, sounding far away and uncomfortably close at the same time. “I hate to drag you all the way up here, but the message I got from Dez sounds serious.”

“No problem. Detours make life exciting, right?”

Blue chuckles. “I figured your life was plenty eventful already.”

“Well, if you promise that this won’t involve a shoot-out or a drug-fueled rampage, then this is still within the bounds of acceptable adventure,” Piper says, grinning a little. It really is fun to tromp around after Blue, even if he spends half his time mentally mapping out supply lines and settlement defenses and the other half flirting shamelessly with Preston.

Piper doesn’t get truly nervous until they reach the giant, circular door. She turns away politely, letting Blue swivel the dials and gears in the secret, members-only passcode, and clears her throat. Blue promised her it’d be an in-and-out thing, that most every field agent was out on assignment, that in all likelihood it would just be Desdemona and maybe Deacon waiting for them.

She heard the unspoken ‘Glory won’t be there’ loud and clear. Trying to soothe her ruffled feathers? Or let her down easy so she isn’t disappointed?. She still isn’t sure how she feels about it herself, after her embarrassing misinterpretation of events after the McDonough Break-In.

Glory had been kind, when she’d told her that they should cool it on the romance angle. Had made it sound reasonable, smart, entirely impersonal; a strategic move that was in Piper’s best interests and hers. They were attracting too much attention as a couple, Glory had said, while Piper tried to keep her face calm and slack, tried to fight back the flush of humiliation at how _obvious_ she must have seemed, how pathetically transparent her attraction must have been, to force Glory into metaphorically dousing her down with cold water.

They could spin the kiss in the office as exactly what it was, Glory said, which was even better. Just a momentary slip, a bad idea between two people who should know better and decided they made more sense as friends, and could Piper be a pal and spread that around in the next few weeks? Making sure that the story was Piper broke it off, that Piper was the one who called it quits? 

Sure. Of course she would, she had said, aiming for bright and probably veering closer to brittle. Piper’s a _pal_ , now and for-fucking-ever.

“Here we go,” Blue murmurs, and with a creaking groan, the door slides open.

Piper lets out a long, even breath, and follows him in.

************

Blue was right after all — it’s quiet in the main room, only a few other people milling around, and they all seem to be keeping to themselves. While Blue goes to talk in a low voice with Desdemona and Deacon, Piper leans against a crumbling column and tries not to fidget, tries not to glance around or chew on her fingernails. Settles more fully against the bricks behind her back and wills herself to look calm and coolly unaffected, like the badass Railroad freelancer that she _is_ , damnit.

“You’re that reporter working with Foxtrot, right?”

Piper nearly jumps out of her skin, whirling around to face the person who just appeared at her elbow like a ghost. _So much for unintimidated_ , she thinks with a mental smack.

“What? I...oh. Yeah, I am. Name’s Piper, Piper Wright” she says, voice cracking, holding her hand out to shake.

“What kind of things do you report on?” The man speaking to her grabs her hand and shakes it once, letting go quickly but peering at her intensely from under the brim of a floppy brown hat. “Cause I got some stories for you that’ll blow your _mind._ You ever heard of nanobots, those little machines the Institute uses to track people? They’re _everywhere_ up there, in the food and the water, contaminating _everything_. Can’t even _breathe_ without getting some Institute tech rammed down your throat, but no one surface-side believes me. We have to tell them, you know? _You_ have to tell them.”

Piper blinks, taken aback by his vehemence. _That’s…not possible? And I’m usually willing to believe anything. What is he talking about? Is the Railroad really that out of touch with current technology and Institute rumors?_

The man is still staring at her, eyes wide, genuine worry radiating off him like heat. His fingertips are stained with ink, fisting the thick fabric of his overalls nervously, and even standing in place he rocks slightly back and forward from heel to toe. Full of vibrating energy, like prey animals in the wild.

And then with almost painful clarity, it clicks into place, and Piper feels her heart clench with a pang of sympathy. She’s met people like this before for interviews, usually in places that got so ravaged by war and death that the survivors had been flayed open by what they’d seen. This is someone who’s seen too much and is trying to cope with the unimaginable, trying to find a way to synthesize horror and compassion and a bone-deep fear, and landing squarely in paranoia.

“Jeez, that sounds intense,” Piper says, pulling out her notebook and scribbling the outline of his story. “I will definitely look into this, Mr…?”

“Tom. Tinker Tom, they call me around here, but just Tom is fine.” He still looks agitated, but getting immediate, positive feedback seems to calm him slightly. Piper glances over to Blue again, willing him to notice her mild predicament, but no luck. _Ah well. Tom here can’t be worse than Jeanie when she’s hopped up on Jet, right?_

“Well Tom,” Piper says. “This could be a big get for me. Tell you what – I can’t stick around here for long, but why don’t I give you my terminal message code and you can drop me a line? Then I’ll have a good place to start for further quotes and research.”

In Piper’s experience, denying or trying to talk someone out of the mental briar patch they’ve trapped themselves in doesn’t help, usually makes things worse in fact. Better to accept it and let the other person feel heard. Better to help shoulder the burden that’s weighing them down so heavy they can barely think through it.

“Really?” Tom’s eyes widen, and his face settles into a beautiful smile. “Yeah, that’d be great, to have a reporter up there who’s willing to look into the big stuff!”

“I can’t promise to print anything,” Piper says, a warning pulse in her left temple. “But I can promise I’ll check out everything you send me, as soon as I get time.”

“Yeah yeah no, I get it,” Tom says, nodding enthusiastically, grinning at her conspiratorially, and Piper can’t help grinning back. “You’ve probably got your own enemies up there. You’ve gotta be careful – that’s the motto here at HQ. Safety first.”

_Kinda the opposite of my philosophy,_ Piper thinks with a private smile. But just as she opens her mouth to answer, a babble of voices and laughter breaks out from above them. A dull, wood-on-stone thud echoes into the room, and the main entrance door slams open.

“We came, we saw, we kicked its ass!”

And Piper knows that voice, the warm tempo and staccato cadence that spells out victory, the slight rasp that still makes her go weak in the knees. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ She twists her head around to stare at Blue, but he’s still so damned focused that he hasn’t even noticed that the quiet, No Glory Zone he’d promised her was dissolving faster than rotten wood in a spray of bloatfly acid. Before she can do more than shove her notebook back in her bag, suck in a quick, panicked breath, and jerk pointlessly as if to hide behind poor Tom’s slender frame, Glory is down the stairs and in the room.

Other agents too, all of them rowdy and back-slapping, clearly celebrating some triumph in the field, but Piper can’t take her eyes off Glory. Mostly she looks the same – a little dustier, a little more rough around the edges than when she stays with Piper in DC – but there’s something different about her, too, something that draws Piper in even more than usual. _It’s her body language,_ Piper thinks distantly, still trying desperately to melt into the stonework behind her. Glory is louder here, more joyful, her movements more expressive and less constrained (and yeah, Piper notices how she loops one arm around another agent, notices how Desdemona smiles at her, how half the people here are drawn to her like a magnet, and the sour taste of jealousy floods her mouth).

_She’s happier here. It’s obvious. God, I'm an idiot._

Just then, Glory’s eyes slide over to the corner of the room she’s tucked into, and the look of utter, complete, comic shock that washes over her face nearly makes Piper laugh out loud despite the sinking pit in her stomach. Glory just stares for a moment, eyebrows raised and mouth still open in mid-word, and Piper shrugs one shoulder helplessly and waggles her fingers in a tiny wave.

And then Glory _smiles,_ gorgeous and unrestrained and huge, and Piper’s traitorous heart flutters in her chest.

“Piper?? Damn, you’re just about the last person I expected to see here,” Glory calls from across the room, striding toward her, weaving past Deacon and Desdemona and Blue (who finally seems to have noticed that the two of them are on an eminent collision path, way too late to be of any use to her, _thanks a lot, buddy_ ), and before Piper can say anything Glory’s lifting her off her feet in a tight hug. Piper wraps her arms around Glory’s shoulders automatically, trying hard not to enjoy the thrill of being so close to her, of being pressed up against the other woman’s body, and tries get a stern grip on her overactive imagination.

“You know me,” Piper says after Glory sets her down again, breathless and smiling no matter how hard she tries to quash it. “I’m DC’s resident scraggly alley cat – no lock in the world can keep me out.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Glory says, eyes sparkling, and Piper feels like she’s falling, like she’s hopelessly adrift, because in all her life she’s never learned how to just turn something _off_. Even embarrassed and disappointed, even humiliated and pissed, she’s still so frustratingly attracted to Glory she can barely stand it. _Maybe I should just pull the plug on this whole thing, if I can't even get my hormones under control_. But even as she’s thinking it, she’s leaning in closer to Glory, she’s peeking up at her from under the brim of her hat, she’s breathing out hot and humid and desperately wanting.

“Oh, I dunno,” says a voice behind her, and Piper pulls away from Glory so fast she bangs her elbow on the brick behind her. _Smooth, Wright. Real smooth._ “Alleycat seems pretty harsh. I’d go with...bad penny.”

The other two agents who’d come in with Glory are standing in front of her, both of them grinning in the friendly, aggressive sort of way Piper associates with DC guards on their home turf. Confident and swaggering and looking for someone to tussle with, to play with, mostly harmless but worth keeping an eye on.

“Great. A 3-for-1 special on smartasses? I should’ve stayed home,” Piper says, holding out her hand to shake with a grin of her own.

The other agents – a man and a woman, both of them dressed in the same tough, flexible armor Glory’s wearing – laugh, and the woman takes her offered hand.

“I’m Scorpio, this is Xavier.” She’s beautiful, Piper can’t help noticing, with her deep brown eyes and dark lashes and crooked smile that’s only enhanced by the small scar over her upper lip. _What_ is _it with these Railroad women?_

“I knew Glory was being secretive about you for a reason,” Xavier said, taking her hand in turn, glancing slyly over at Glory. “She wanted Little Miss Penny all to herself.” His hand is warm in hers, large enough that she feels a little dwarfed next to him, and when he releases her his middle finger brushes the skin on her wrist a little too firmly to be an accident.

_Challenge-flirting, the other major Railroad export,_ Piper thinks wryly, raising an eyebrow at Xavier significantly and getting a fairly cute, ‘can’t blame me for trying’ head-tilt in return.

“Trust me, the city’s ample supply of ammo, baked goods, and clean water are bigger draws than my sparkling personality,” Piper deadpans, and catches herself before automatically leaning back into Glory’s frame. That couple posture, the flirty habits they’d gotten into over the past few months, are all working against her now, and she bites her tongue to keep from saying anything stupid like ‘barking up the wrong tree’, or ‘I’ve got all the Railroad heavy I can handle, thanks.’

It hurts, more than she wants to admit, and she averts her eyes before she makes an even bigger fool of herself.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. There’s plenty of other attractions from where I’m standing,” Scorpio says with a wink, and this time Piper can’t quite repress the flush that washes over her face. Scorpio laughs delightedly, hip-checking Xavier and running a hand through her short brown hair.

“Okay, you guys need to stop needling my poor asset,” Glory says, still smiling but not as broad, with an edge to her voice that Piper hasn’t heard before. _Crap. She's probably pissed I didn't let her know I'd be here._ “C’mon Pipes, if Foxtrot’s gonna keep sneaking you in here, you should at least know how to get out the back way.”

“Secret tunnels?” Piper says, rolling her eyes and grinning bigger, overcompensating a little, wanting to prove she can verbally fence with the best of ‘em, wanting to show Glory that she could hold her own just fine with her crew. “I should’ve guessed. Freakin’ spies.”

“Yeah well, knowing your luck, you’re going to need it,” Glory says, the sharpness in her voice fading, looking at Piper so affectionately that Piper’s breath catches in her throat, caught halfway between stupid longing and annoyance at Glory for keeping this crap up even after the cover story’s changed.

“Duty calls,” Piper says with a small shrug, Scorpio and Xavier exchange another wordless, indecipherable glance.

“Bye, Penny. See you next time,” Scorpio says, a statement and not a question, and Piper’s spirits rise as she throws a wave and a smile over her shoulder.

It feels good, to be wanted; i feels close enough to what she really wants, anyway. To be liked by someone Glory likes.

“You Railroad agents are pretty friendly, huh,” Piper says, nudging Glory with an elbow as she follows her through the room, sparing a moment so shoot Blue ‘really, dude?’ eye lasers as she passes, getting a drive-by stressed out, scrunched-up ‘sorry!’ expression for her trouble. _Figures._

“Sure,” Glory scoffs, shaking her head ruefully. “That’s one word for what they are. I can think of a few others.”

They come to a doorway carved open in the brick, and Glory turns back with a finger to her lips. Piper nods, unsure but game, but understands as soon as they step into a narrow hallway lined with mattresses, with two people curled up on the floor fast asleep.

_Man, these guys really need to invest in a bigger place,_ Piper thinks, stepping softly and carefully past the sleeping pair. _Or at least a door or two._

They keep going, the sounds from the main room fading, the ground sloping downward into a shallow rise of water. Glory stops and turns, her hair glowing faintly in the eerie, green-ish glow, her face set and serious in a way Piper associates with hard conversations, with Glory steeling herself to do something she doesn’t want to do. Piper’s heart sinks.

“So this is it. Straight on through the door at the end,” Glory says, her voice echoing slightly in the room, the water rippling out from both of them.

“Good to know,” Piper says, starts to say ‘You take me to the nicest places’, and then snaps her mouth shut. “You — I mean. It’s nice. To know how to get out, if I ever need to.”

“You do love a good escape route,” Glory says, and it sounds like a joke but she’s still so _serious_ , and the back of Piper’s neck tingles warningly.

“Hey, are you…” Piper says, tentatively reaching out and resting her hand on Glory’s upper arm. “You seem a little...I mean, I know it’s probably weird seeing me...here. With no warning or anything. I swear, Blue promised me you wouldn’t be here —”

“Pipes,” Glory says, but Piper’s caught in full flow and can’t stop the words from pouring out.

“— not that I didn’t _want_ to see you, but you know, I would’ve let you know. I don’t have to come back, if you need to keep things separate, or—”

“ _Piper_ ,” Glory says firmly, laying her hand over Piper’s and squeezing slightly, and Piper bites her lip to physically impede her endless, pointless explanation.

“Sorry,” Piper mutters, cursing her tendency to babble, the nervous tick that either gets her off the hook completely or makes everything five times worse.

“Stop apologizing,” Glory says, one corner of her mouth twitching up. “I just wanted to...I just wanted to let you know that I —”

Glory hesitates, her hand still on Piper’s, and Piper’s heartbeat starts to speed up, loud in her own ears like the rushing of the water below.

“I wanted to let you know that I really...I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. For Diamond City. Foxtrot passed along your latest article. It meant — _means_ — a lot to me.”

Piper lets out a breath. _‘Who Gets To Be Human? The Case For Synth Rights’_ , her latest article and reason du’jour to take a break from DC while she let the Bigot Dust settle. She’d Glory in mind when she wrote it, of course, but it was something else, too.

_The Synthetic Truth_ had caused problems. She hadn’t realized it at the time — had been too focused on McDonough, on the story, on _revenge_ , to see how she helped create a hostile situations for synths in the city. She’d been careless, reckless, and even before Glory she’d wanted to make amends.

It helps, obviously, to be completely infatuated on a gorgeous, unapologetic synth. But Piper thinks — hopes — that she would’ve done it anyway. Piper hopes she’s grown, that she never stops growing and fucking up and making it right again.

“Oh. Yeah, of course. No problem — it’s all true, right?” Piper says finally, smiling a little, letting her hand fall back to her side.

“It is,” Glory says, stepping a little closer to her, looking at her so intently that Piper feels another wave of shivers ripple across her skin. _Ohhhh man. Not again._ “But you didn’t have to do it. And I —”

“You keep hiding Piper away, and Foxtrot is gonna start getting worried, Glory,” a voice says from further back in the hallway, and Piper whirls around, startled.

It’s Deacon, leaning up against the wall behind them, smirking slightly with his hands in his pockets.

“Huh? Oh. Hey, Deacon. Blue knows I’m here,” Piper says, frowning slightly. “He saw us come back this way.”

“Still. Our guy’s a little jumpy these days,” Deacon replies easily, still smiling just a little, and Piper raises an eyebrow. _Huh?_

“Okayyy,” Piper says slowly, and as she’s opening her mouth to rejoin with a non sequitur of her own, Glory beats her to it.

“Right. Pipes, why don’t you head back, now that you’ve passed the Railroad Escape Tunnel safety training portion of your visit.”

Piper glances back and forth between them, then huffs and shrugs. “I mean, sure. Whatever you say. For a couple of secret agents, though, you guys lack a certain subtlety when you’re trying to get rid of someone."

Glory laughs, full and beautiful, and Piper grins up at her, pleased despite herself.

“Fair enough. Get going, Wright — Deacon and I need to have a chat. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay? Foxtrot will have the details.” Glory’s gaze is trained on her, eyes dark even in the eerie green light, completely ignoring Deacon, and even someone without Piper’s gift for gossip could sense the tension between the two of them right now.

She shouldn’t push, knows she needs to squash that immediate instinct to dig deep under the surface, to push and pry until something cracks open and lets her _in_. Piper doesn’t need to know everything. But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to.

“See you, Glory,” Piper says, following Glory’s lead and not acknowledging Deacon — if there’s a division there, if there’s a line or factions forming, then no matter what happened between them Piper knows whose side she’s on — and when Glory hugs her again she breathes in deep.

Deacon is calm, is impassive and unobtrusive as ever, but Piper feels his eyes on her as she leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piper and I are of one mind when it comes to making those tired Railroad agents and escaped synths sleep on mattresses in a room with no doors; the Railroad _desperately_ needs Sturges to get down there and fix the place up!


End file.
